


winners in a losing game

by xylophones



Series: make my heart beat out of my chest 'verse [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Music, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Musicians, Mutual Pining, Pining, Social Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 08:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10158191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylophones/pseuds/xylophones
Summary: Don't believe the rumors, international popstar Viktor Nikiforov is totally not using his new album as an excuse to flirt with the cute dancer that stole his heart last year.Or: How to Snatch Up Yuuri Katsuki, the Hottest Dance Star on the Market: A Guide by Viktor Nikiforov





	1. birds on a powerline

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again friends! I was blown away with the response from my last two stories so i decided to post this waaaaayyy earlier than i was planning! Yall just inspired me so much that i cranked this out instead of studying for my ap econ midterm LMAO.  
> maybe read pulling my weight in gold first??? but it’s not required, hopefully i included enough exposition for you to get by without PMWIG. All of the works in this series are mostly stand alone and i wrote them out of order so it doesn't really matter which you read first, but i recommend reading PMWIG just to get a basic idea of where they’re both at in their careers at this point  
> The title and the chapter titles are all from Cave Me In , another gallant song because i’m weak and his lyrics are relatable (listen to Talking to Myself and tell me it’s not a hella Yuuri-esque song, TELL ME)  
> Anyway: here’s the first chapter of five (maybe?? There might be a 6th depending on how i divide this up)

The first time Viktor Nikiforov meets Yuuri Katsuki (officially), he’s running late.

He’s been looking forward to this meeting for nearly a  _ year _ yet somehow he still managed to forget what time he promised to be at the record label’s office. If asked, he’ll blame Makkachin and the poodle’s irresistable cuteness. 

Viktor barrels down the halls of Grand Prix  Records, sending interns scurrying for cover. He makes it to Yakov’s office without causing too much damage. He smooths down his hair, fluttering his hands excitedly before he’s turning the knob and opening the door and–

–And there he is.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor breathes out.

“Oh! Yes, hi, hello! T-That’s me, I’m Yuuri,” Yuuri startles and turns to face him, his eyes impossibly round underneath his glasses. He’s different from the last time that Viktor saw him. Although to be fair, the last time Viktor saw him Yuuri was wearing five-inch heels and grinding messily against a stripper pole. Viktor flushes with the memory. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri says, shaking Viktor’s hand. Viktor wills his heart to settle. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, turning on the charm. He just barely resists the urge to kiss the back of Yuuri’s hand as if they were in some cliche Victorian romance novel. “And please, call me Viktor.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, stealing the air straight from Viktor’s lungs. Viktor’s about to open his mouth, probably to say something embarrassing, but then Yakov is clearing his throat and motioning for Viktor to take a seat. 

“Mr. Katsuki, you got my email, yes?” 

Yuuri nods and gestures towards the ponytailed man sitting besides him. “Yes, my manager and I reviewed it.”

Viktor tries to pay attention to the negotiations, he really does. This  _ is _ important to him. After all, the public has been eagerly awaiting Viktor’s new album and he wants to surprise them. Viktor wants desperately to bring Yuuri into the project, Yuuri with his breathtaking dancing and his endless popularity. He’s willing to take anything, even if it’s just the choreography for one music video. Viktor tries to follow the rapid fire discussion, but Yuuri is so lovely with his soft, but sure voice and the way his gaze keeps flickering over to Viktor. He’s distracted. When most of the details and complications have been worked out Viktor breaks his silence. 

“So, Yuuri,” he purrs. Yakov rolls his eyes. “Why did you decide to work with me?”

“Huh?”

“You disappeared off the face of the Earth. No one could get you to dance for them for a year. So, why did you respond to my email?”

Yuuri fidgets. “Well, you saw my video.”

“I did,” Viktor hums. “It was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri says, blushing prettily. “I took your offer because- um, it’s always been a dream of mine to work with you.”

Yuuri locks his gaze with Viktor’s. “I’m a big fan. I was inspired.”

“A fan, huh? I’m a big fan of yours, as well. I hope we can continue to  _ inspire _ each other.” 

“For the love of– Vitya, please. If that’s all, I think we can wrap this meeting up here. We’ll give you some time to listen to the music before you sign the contract,” Yakov says. 

Viktor hands over a precious copy of his newest album over to Yuuri with a wink. “Guard it with your life.”

“I will! O-Of course!”

“We’ll get back to you in a week,” Yuuri’s manager nods. Then, they’re sweeping out of the room, Viktor’s heart in tow.

“Vitya,” Yakov whirls on him as soon as they’re gone. “I thought I told you specifically  _ not  _ to flirt with Katsuki during the meeting.”

“Hmm? Oh, right,” Viktor waves a hand dismissively. “That wasn’t even flirting, Yakov. I was just… making a good first impression.”

Yakov considers him for a moment. “You really want this boy on this album.”

“Yes. Half the songs are about him anyways, it’s only fitting that he performs them.”

“You still haven’t told me where you met him.”

Viktor blushes. “That’s not important. What’s important is that this is going to be the album of the year. We will rake in lots of money for you, Yakov, please just– I need to complete my vision and he’s a big part of that.”

Yakov nods. For all his exasperation and yelling, he’s still the best manager in the business. 

“Please, make sure he takes the contract. Offer him anything.”

Yakov sighs and runs a hand down his face. “I still don’t know what you see in that boy.”

“You will,” Viktor promises. “Everyone will.”

 

* * *

 

After the meeting, Viktor calls up Christophe for coffee. By coffee, he means overpriced flavored foam from the cafe next to the label’s office building. 

“There you are,” Viktor waves Christophe over when the younger man finally makes it to the cafe. “I was worried you abandoned me. Again.”

Christophe sighs. “As dramatic as ever, I see.  _ Mon chou, ça va? _ ”

“I’m doing well, Chris,” Viktor grins, taking a delicate sip of his flavored foam. “I met Yuuri today.”

“Ah, our darling dance star. How is he?”

“ _ Lovely,” _ Viktor smiles, before levelling Christophe with an accusatory glare. “But you would know more about that then I would, wouldn’t you? Considering you  _ replaced  _ me with him and Chulanont.”

Christophe shrugs, clearly not as guilty as Viktor wants him to be. “They’re interesting. You wanted me to talk to him and I did.”

“Yes, I wanted you to talk to him, not become best friends,” Viktor pouts.

“Aw,  _ mon cheri,  _ don’t be like that. You’re still my number one.”

“I know. I’m just jealous, you get to speak to him all the time.”

“This past year hasn’t been good for him,” Christophe admits. “He’s better now. He’s also very excited to work on your album.”

Viktor beams.

“So, you  _ did  _ talk to him about me.”

“I did. He doesn’t like to talk about the party, so I don’t push.”

Viktor winces. “Ah, I was afraid of that.”

Christophe hums. 

“No matter!” Viktor declares. “I’ll just start from scratch. The meeting today went well, he’ll be in love with me in no time.”

“Invite me to the wedding.”

“You’ll be my best man,” Viktor smiles, before lowering his voice. “Really, Christophe. Thank you. I really like him.”

“I know.”

They sit in silence for awhile, enjoying each other’s presence. The world whizzes on around them. Jokes aside, Viktor  _ had  _ missed being around Christophe. They rarely get to see each other now that Christophe has officially left the music industry to become a world class supermodel. Viktor doesn’t blame him; the man has incredible thighs. Eventually, Christophe breaks the peace with a nudge to Viktor’s leg.

“You need to lock that boy down before he discovers The Salt album and never speaks to you again,” Christophe says, grinning. 

“The Salt album is a masterpiece!” Viktor cries indignantly. 

Christophe hums. “You are very lucky that Yakov refused to release it. It’s embarrassing.”

(The Salt album is actually titled “Y” because Viktor is both excessively petty and impressively unsubtle. It’s an album containing every lovelorn song Viktor had written in the year after Yuuri had blown his mind and then disappeared. 

Viktor maintains that it’s a good album and resents the comparisons to Georgi’s work. Viktor doesn’t wallow in heartbroken misery; he pines gracefully.) 

“The Salt album is irrelevant,” Viktor says. “Yuuri isn’t an ocean away anymore, he’s here. We’ll be interacting daily.”

“Ooh, _ interacting _ ? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Christophe winks.

“Not like that. Not yet at least.”

“Not yet, you say. When, Viktor? You spent a year chasing him and now you’re not going to make a move? What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t want to scare him,” Viktor admits quietly. “Seriously, Chris. I really don’t want to mess this up.”

“ _ Oh, mon coeur,  _ you won’t. He adores you.”

“I want to take it slow. He deserves a proper wooing, true romance.”

“Okay, Mr. True Romance,” Christophe grins. “Now, update me on what’s going on at the label. Is Yakov still forcing little Yura into ballet lessons with his ex-wife?”

 

* * *

 

To clarify:

Viktor didn’t fall in love with Yuuri at the VMAs after party.

He was delighted, yes, but he wasn’t in love. He was just… interested.

So, he did what most people do when they discover something new and exciting: he crawled around on the Internet for any scrap of information regarding Yuuri Katsuki. He felt a little cheap, getting to know Yuuri through interviews and Phichit’s Instagram posts instead of face-to-face. He wondered if this is what his fans feel like.

Getting to know Yuuri in person is not an option, however, seeing as Yuuri didn’t call. 

Viktor is  _ sure _ he’d given Yuuri his number at the party. Even his alcohol soaked mind would have recognized that trying to contact Yuuri through carrier pigeon or smoke signals wouldn't have worked out, though it would’ve been  _ incredibly  _ romantic. He’s absolutely certain he’d printed his number in neat script over Yuuri’s collarbone while he was giving Viktor a lap dance. Viktor will never forget a second of that lap dance.

Theoretically, Viktor could have just asked Christophe to introduce them. Against all odds, Christophe is friends with both Yuuri and Phichit. But Viktor was stubborn, and he wanted Yuuri to come to him. He needed proof that Yuuri felt what he did that night; he needed to know that Yuuri felt the spark, the fireworks that seemed to go off when they locked eyes from across the room. 

Their first meeting was a little unconventional, but Viktor wouldn’t trade it for the world. He’d never been so breathless from anticipation, so utterly captivated by someone. 

He didn’t fall in love, though. 

He fell for Yuuri in the lonely months afterwards. 

Viktor felt a little pathetic, begging for secondhand information about Yuuri through Christophe. It wasn’t like Viktor was asking his friend to spy on Yuuri; Viktor just wanted to know if Yuuri was okay. Despite the visceral need to get to know Yuuri Viktor isn’t a massive creep. 

A full year went by and just when Viktor was starting to doubt himself, convinced that the best night of his life was a one-time thing, just when Viktor was starting to give up, Yuuri posted a video. 

It took all of Viktor’s self control to not just fly to Japan. He may be the most extra man in existence, but even he can recognize that showing up naked at the love of his life’s childhood home is a little  _ too  _ extra. Instead he bothered Yakov incessantly until he emailed Yuuri’s manager. 

And now? Now, Viktor has months to unravel the enigma that is Yuuri Katsuki. He’s absolutely  _ thrilled _ .

 

* * *

 

Viktor spends the rest of the week trying not to annoy Yakov too much. 

That means annoying the living hell out of Yurio. 

“He’s so pretty. Yurio, have you ever seen someone so beautiful?”

“Would you stop,” Yurio glares. “You’re so creepy.”

“The way he dances, wow! Have you seen the video he did for Beyoncé?”

“Yes. Lilia made me watch it. She said I need to work on my core and that Katsuki did it by dancing in heels.”

“Did she make you practice in heels?”

“For a week,” he hisses. “It was  _ hell.  _ I was  _ actually dying. _ ”

“Wow, Yuuri must be more talented than I thought!”

“Can you shut up about him for like, two seconds?”

“Nope!”

“Get out! You’re so annoying, old man.”

Apparently, interns all the way on the 5th floor could hear Yurio slamming the door shut.

 

* * *

 

Viktor has seen probably every second of footage containing Yuuri's dancing that exists on the internet, but the first time he sees Yuuri dancing in person knocks the breath right out of his lungs. 

Yakov told him that Yuuri had been coming in to use the studio while he contemplated their contract. He told him that Yuuri had said he wanted to get a feel of where he might be working for the next couple of months before he signed anything. Viktor had known that Yuuri was hanging around the label’s studio but he hadn't actually seen him for a couple days. 

Viktor is heading home from a grueling day of sitting in his office and doing nothing but paperwork. It's late; almost everyone is gone, the offices dim and empty. He's just dropped some things off on Yakov’s desk and is on his way out when he hears the soft notes of a piano from just down the hall. Curiosity piqued, Viktor wanders towards the lilting melody. He stops just outside the dance studio, the door propped open enough to see Yuuri flying across the floor. 

It’s like watching a painting come to life. The way that Yuuri holds himself, full of quiet grace underlined with a subtle, intoxicating strength, reminds Viktor of impressionist paintings. He thinks about how the brushstrokes seem to swirl about the canvas, dizzying with their bright colors and the suggestion of movement. That’s how Yuuri dances. Viktor watches him sweep across the room, eyeing himself critically in the mirror even as he turns and turns and turns. In his head, Viktor can see the deep blues of a Monet painting in the curve of Yuuri’s arms, the carefully crafted chaos of a Renoir piece in the bend of Yuuri’s knees. 

Viktor is aware that standing awkwardly in the doorway while he practices is intrusive, but he can’t look away. Eventually, Yuuri notices Viktor hovering.

“A-ah! Mr. Nikiforov! I’m sorry I didn’t see you.”

“No, it’s my bad. I didn’t mean to interrupt. And please, call me Viktor,” he reminds gently, taking a step further into the room. “That was stunning, Yuuri.”

“It was just a warm up,” Yuuri mumbles, fiddling with the cap of his water bottle. “I-If you want, I can show you some ideas I had for the album work? Only if you have time, though, I don’t want to bother–”

“I’d love to see anything you have.”

Yuuri nods and takes another minute to catch his breath, stretching and shaking out his limbs. 

“Okay, this is a rough outline and I’ve only had the album for a couple days, so–” Yuuri clears his throat and starts the music. 

Any doubts about whether or not Yuuri connected with the music are cleared as soon as he starts to move. If his dancing earlier was an impressionist painting, his dancing now is an entire art gallery _.  _ Viktor can’t pinpoint the moments when Yuuri shifts, the style changing fluidly while he tumbles and twists and sways to the music. He matches the tempo perfectly, his body weaving in between the music notes. Viktor thinks of vines, thinks that the intense focus and taut lines of Yuuri’s body are like thorns. By the time the song winds down, Viktor is breathless.

“Please,” Viktor begs. “ _ Please, _ take the contract.”

“I-I’m still deciding. It’s a lot of commitment,” Yuuri pants, a shy smile gracing his face. “I’m glad you liked it, though.”

Viktor understands, he really does, but he’ll be crushed if he never sees Yuuri dance like that for him again. He stops by the door just before he leaves.

“If you take it,” Viktor says, locking eyes with Yuuri through the mirror. “I’ll look forward to working with you. You dance beautifully.”

 

* * *

 

“About the contract,” Yuuri says at their next meeting, sliding his copy of Viktor’s album across the table. “I’ll take it, but can I make a few adjustments?”

 

* * *

 

The initial deal was five music videos and an appearance on at least one award show. 

Yuuri’s choreographed in many music videos, but as far as Viktor knows he’s only starred in videos for Phichit. Viktor wants to change that. He wants to show Yuuri off, showcase him to the world.  _ Look _ , he wants to say,  _ Look at him, the legend who brought Viktor Nikiforov to his knees. _

Yuuri takes home the album, after their first meeting with strict instructions to listen to all of it and to not share it with anyone. 

Viktor knows Yuuri is in high demand after his comeback. Honestly, he considers it lucky that Yuuri had decided to meet with him at all. Viktor figures he’ll probably try to get them to do three videos, maybe two if he’s been tied up with other projects.

Yuuri comes back a week later with a proposal for an entire visual album, half the choreography already planned out. 

“I was inspired,” he admits timidly. “I couldn’t just pick five.”

“Wow.”

“It’s nothing,” he says, modestly, as if he didn’t spend what was probably every waking moment at a dance studio, listening to Viktor’s album on repeat. He tries not to get too hung up on that, but Viktor is ecstatic. Yuuri liked Viktor’s work enough that he dropped everything to dance to his music, exclusively. He liked it enough to be willing to spend months working with Viktor. 

Viktor is surprised. He has a feeling this isn’t the last time Yuuri Katsuki will surprise him.


	2. it's got you off your feet, or on your toes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay!!
> 
> 1st: im glad people are actually interested in this thank yall so much!!!
> 
> 2nd: i just became really busy!!! I was originally planning on a chapter every other day but i cant do that anymore so to compensate im posting this one early (since it was done anyways) BUT!! I will be back soon, in like a week at max

It’s the first day of work on the album and Viktor is feeling electrified. It’s just a concept discussion, nothing concrete yet, but Viktor can’t wait. Yuuri let him preview some of his ideas, that night in the studio, and he’s excited to see what else he has planned. He wants to see how his music translated into Yuuri’s dancing. He’s curious to know if Yuuri picked up on all the nuances, all the hidden emotions that Viktor poured into the work.

Yuuri is not what Viktor was expecting.

He’s aware that the loud, bold Yuuri that he’d met at the party wasn’t the real Yuuri. He was fine with that, excited to get to know Yuuri better when he wasn’t sloshed. He just didn’t know how different Yuuri is.

He’s skittish. Quiet. During the meeting he doesn’t hold back, offering his input whenever he can. He asks Viktor lots of questions, but won’t meet his eyes. Viktor can’t help but feel discouraged.

He tries to talk to Yuuri, after they call time on the meeting. He weaves around the crowd of producers and marketers to try to get closer, but Yuuri scurries away.  

He thinks that Yuuri’s initial shyness will fade once they start practicing one-on-one, but that’s not the case. If anything, it gets _worse._ Viktor wonders if he’s done something wrong, or if maybe Yuuri remembers the party and feels uncomfortable. He asks Christophe.

“Yuuri’s just like that,” he says, voice crackling over the phone. “He’s shy.”

“I know, but I don’t know how to get him to be more comfortable around me,” Viktor whines. “He always looks like he expects me to pull out an axe and murder him.”

“Why don’t you have lunch with the three of us, me, Phichit, and Yuuri. Maybe that would help?”

“Are you sure he’d be okay with me crashing your weekly lunch date?”

“I’ll ask, but I don’t think he’s going to say no.”

They meet at a small bistro near Chris’s apartment. Viktor is nervous. He and Chris have been best friends since the dinosaurs have been alive, but he doesn’t know Phichit that well, outside of social media and the occasional award show. And Yuuri is another matter altogether.

“Viktor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti,” Phichit thunders as soon as they enter the bistro. “You two are _late!_ ”

Viktor nearly turns around and walks right out again. Phichit Chulanont may look like a human sunflower, but he is _terrifying._

Chris waves a hand, sliding into the booth opposite of Yuuri and Phichit. “We’re five minutes early, actually. Calm down.”

“You’ve kept me waiting! Don’t you know that Yuuri and I are busy men with busy lives!”

“Neither of us have work today,” Yuuri points out. He notices Viktor hovering awkwardly near them. “H-Hi, Viktor. Sit down, don’t let Phichit scare you.”

“He should be scared,” Phichit says, looking Viktor up and down. “I eat pretty boys like you for breakfast.”

“P-Phichit!” Yuuri giggles lightly, smashing a hand against the side of Phichit’s face. “Please, sit down Viktor. Phichit is in A Mood this morning.”

“Phichit is always in a mood,” Chris laughs.

“I can’t believe you two are picking on me when Mr. Extra Nikiforov himself is sitting right here.”

“Yes, but we expect it from Viktor. You should know better.”

“Wow,” Viktor laughs, chiming in. “Yuuri, you’re never this sassy at practice! Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Oh, Yuuri’s just like that when he dances,” Phichit says, smirking. “Half the other dance majors in Detroit were terrified by him.”

“I’m not terrifying!” Yuuri squawks indignantly. “I’m a ray of sunshine!”

“Love, normally you’re about as intimidating as a small woodland creature, but when you dance,” Chris whistles. “ _Mon Dieu,_ Yuuri.”

“Stop it,” Yuuri whines. “You guys.”

Phichit cackles. “I love embarrassing my small son.”

“I’m older than you!”

“And I’m older than both of you, so maybe stop acting like children, _oui?”_

Viktor rests his head on his hands, caught up in the effortless energy of the three of them. He’s never seen Yuuri so comfortable, sandwiched between Phichit and the wall, playfully kicking Chris under the table. It’s refreshing.

Chris is different, too. He seems younger, less put together. It’s like when they were kids, before the weight of the world fell on his shoulders, before he was slapped with the label of ‘sex god’ and forced to roll with it.

“Viktor, let me tell you about the time that Yuuri almost killed a man,” Phichit says, breaking Viktor out of his thoughts.

“Oh?” Viktor says, raising an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

And just like that Viktor is swept back into the whirlwind of playful banter and boyish giggling. At one point, Phichit flings a fry at Chris and Yuuri and Viktor need to restrain the two before they get their group kicked out of the restaurant. Yuuri catches his eye over the top of Phichit’s head and smiles. It’s like watching the sun rise.

Viktor uploads a cute picture onto Instagram: a shot of their food from above, Chris’s hands wrapped around his latte and Phichit stealing some food from Yuuri’s plate. He tags all of them, even Yuuri’s rarely used account. Phichit screeches for the rest of the afternoon because his follower count has suddenly jumped by the thousands. Yuuri pretends to be annoyed but Viktor notices that he likes the photo.

 

 

           

[Image: A top down view of four people gathered around a table. There are cups of coffee, a set of keys, phones, and an DSLR camera strewn around the table top.]

 

 

After that they just click. There’s no other way to describe it. Something slots into place and suddenly there’s less dancing around each other and more dancing together. They have this crazy chemistry; Viktor doesn’t know how to describe it. It makes his heart pound and his knees weak. It’s funny how he’s written dozens of bubbly love songs, but he’s never experienced it until now. He had no idea it would feel like this: the headrush every time Yuuri looks at him, the small fireworks that erupt on his skin every time Yuuri touches him.

Viktor never went to a regular high school. He never had a prom or a first boyfriend or even a first crush. Not like this, at least.

He’s aware that he’s being annoying about it, but in his defense, Viktor feels like he should be allowed to gush. He’d been deprived of this for so long.

“Is it always like this?” he asks Mila one day while they’re supervising a photoshoot for Georgi’s new album. There are excessive amounts of glitter in the air.

“Like what?”

“Romance! Crushes! _Feelings!”_

“Oh,” Mila brushes some glitter off her shoulder. “I mean, yes?”

“ _Holy shit,_ ” Viktor says, grasping his chest dramatically. “No wonder Georgi’s a mess.”

“ _I heard that!”_

Mila looks at him, amused. “I’ve never seen you like this, Vitya. You’re usually so… casual. Do you even remember your last boyfriend’s name.”

“Of course!” Viktor frowns. “But that’s not important! I feel so… _fluttery._ All the time! Is this normal? I’m having heart palpitations.”

“I can’t believe the media thinks you’re this suave, ladykiller type,” Mila says, shaking her head fondly. “You’re worse than Georgi.”

“ _Mila! I’m right here!”_

“Go back to your fairy prince photoshoot, Georgi,” Mila looks over her shoulder and frowns. “Also, your eyeliner is running.”

“That’s because I’m crying.”

“That boy,” Mila mutters. “Anyway, you have to pull yourself together, Vitya. You’ve been chasing this boy for a couple months–”

“A year actually, but go on.”

“– you can’t tell me that you don’t have a game plan ready.”

“I did! I was going to woo him with my charms and my pretty face. But it’s hard to concentrate on being attractive when he’s _also_ attractive.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m aware.”

“Just let him know how you feel! How do you think I got Sara?”

“Um, you didn’t. You didn’t actually do anything. She ran away from her crazy brother and straight into your arms.”

“Oh, believe me,” Mila laughs. “There was nothing _straight_ about that.”

Viktor groans while Mila continues to giggle. In the background, Georgi sniffles.

 

* * *

 

Viktor gets over his initial feelings of being starstruck eventually. Yuuri slowly but surely warms up to him. That doesn’t mean Viktor suddenly knows where the boundaries are, though.

During practice one day Yuuri decides to demonstrate some core work. He does this by pulling on a pair of five-inch, candy red stilettos. Viktor gapes. It’s _The Heels,_ the heels that have starred in his fantasies for months, the heels that have driven him to the cliffs of insanity.

“Wow,” Viktor says, laughing nervously. “Aren’t those from your performance at last year’s VMAs.”

“What? Oh, um, yeah,” Yuuri says. With the heels on, he’s almost as tall as Viktor.

“I didn’t think I’d see you wearing these again, after the afterparty,” Viktor gulps.

Yuuri freezes. “The afterparty?”

“Yes?” Viktor continues, trying not to look at how nice Yuuri’s legs are in those heels. “Um, the one where we met?”

Yuuri’s gaze snaps up to Viktor’s. “Where we–?”

He stops and takes in Viktor’s expression.

“ _Oh no,”_ Yuuri says, horrified. “What did I do?”

“You don’t remember? Anything?”

Yuuri shakes his head.

“Ah, well see you–” _stole my heart and ruined me for anyone else, like forever_ “– danced with me, a little. Um.”

“Oh, god,” Yuuri groans. “I mean, Chris told me about the pole dancing, but he didn’t tell me that I met you. Please, tell me I didn’t do anything stupid.”

“You didn’t do anything stupid. It was nice, actually.”

The look Yuuri shoots him tells Viktor that he doesn’t believe him.

“You gave me a lap dance.”

“I _what?!”_

“It was a nice lap dance!” Viktor rushes to reassure him. “The best lap dance of my life! I was utterly seduced.”

Yuuri turns bright red.

“It was very impressive! I didn’t think you had much coordination, especially after your performance–”

Yuuri makes a sound like a dying animal, tears pooling in his eyes. He looks at Viktor like he just told him his dog died.

“My dog died,” Yuuri says, sniffling. “Right before the performance.”

Well, shit.

“I’m sorry! I had no idea! It’s not that your performance was bad– I didn’t know– Oh my god–” Viktor scrambles to say something, _anything_ , to make things better.

Yuuri bursts into tears.

Right.

“Why don’t we take a break,” Viktor mumbles awkwardly, slipping out of the room.

Viktor ends up in the piano room, a couple doors down. He curses himself and his inability to take things slow. They were _just_ making progress, too! And Viktor had to go on and push, _great going, Nikiforov, you made him cry! Real smooth._

Viktor sits down in front of a baby grand piano situated in the middle of the room. After a while, he notices Yuuri in the doorway, thankfully not crying anymore.

“I’m sorry for getting so emotional back there,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck self consciously.

“I’m sorry, too. For reminding you and making you uncomfortable,” Viktor says, lifting his hands to the keys.

He runs through some scales idly, unable to sit in front of a piano without playing it. Yuuri continues to hover in the doorway until Viktor scoots over and pats the bench next to him. They listen to Viktor mindlessly toy with the keys for a couple of minutes. Viktor contemplates the best way to get Yuuri to open up to him without scaring him away. Eventually, he draws his hands away from the keys, ready to try to coax some conversation out of his companion.

To Viktor’s surprise, after a moment of hesitation, Yuuri’s hands replace his on the piano. He watches as Yuuri picks out a familiar melody, and realizes that he’s playing one of Viktor’s songs.

“You can play?” Viktor mentally adds this to his list of ‘Things that make Yuuri Katsuki Viktor’s Favorite Person’.

“Ah, no,” Yuuri admits sheepishly. “Just the one song. I told you I was a big fan, especially when I was younger. I use to think I also wanted to be a musician, but I hated my piano teacher, so.”

“But you know this song.”

Yuuri ducks his head shyly.

“You… liked this song? Enough to learn it?”

“It was my favorite.”

“And now?”

“Well, I liked the songs you did for Disney. But, um– I _really_ like the fourth track on your new one? The slow one.”

Viktor stares, certain for a moment that Yuuri _knows._ That song is about him, cloyingly sweet and earnest. Of course, he likes that song, Viktor wrote it about him.

“C-Can I ask why you like it ?” He questions, almost afraid of the truth.

“It reminds me of Hasetsu. My home. When I listen to it I can almost see the cherry blossoms.”

Yuuri’s hands falter as he brings his attention back to the song he’s currently playing. “Ah– I can’t remember how this bit goes, sorry.”

It’s an old song, but Yuuri seems to have breathed new life into it. Viktor picks up from where he left off, hands dancing around Yuuri’s. On a whim, Viktor blends it in with Yuuri’s new favorite.

He gasps in delight, withdrawing his hands so Viktor has more room to work.

“Wow, can you just add things in like that? You don’t need to write it out first?”

Viktor shrugs. “I prefer to write it out after I’ve experimented a little. It’s like a game. I think I can play almost anything.”

“Anything?” Yuuri challenges.

They spend the rest of the afternoon going back and forth, Yuuri suggesting increasingly difficult or obscure songs while Viktor tries his best to play them. By the time they leave Yuuri is less skittish, even joking around a little.

Viktor is smiling for the rest of the day.

 

[Image: an empty, well lit studio with floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one wall and windows on an adjacent wall. A piano sits in the corner.]

 

 

 

The first time Viktor makes Yuuri laugh it’s like watching a star being born. Viktor cracks a joke, a cheesy pun, and watches as Yuuri’s face lights up, breaking into a small grin, laughter erupting from him like shower of photons.

 

* * *

 

One day, over lunch, they discover that they live almost in the same neighborhood. Viktor cannot believe that he’s lived practically next door to the love of his life without realizing it. A year of pining and desperately stalking him on social media, wasted.

“Yuuri! You live so close to me! We should carpool to the studio, save gas.”

“Oh, you live downtown, too?” Yuuri furrows his brow. “Why don’t you live in, like, Beverly Hills or something?”

“I’m a cliche, but I’m not _that_ much of a cliche. So, what do you say? Do you want to carpool? We could get breakfast together in the mornings!”

Viktor loves it, even if he has to wake up earlier. More often than not, Yuuri is waiting for him with a cup of coffee for Viktor and some hot tea for himself.

“I never understood the appeal behind coffee,” Yuuri says, wrinkling his nose while he watches Viktor chug the entire, scalding hot cup. “It’s just hot bean water.”

“Your tea is just hot leaf water,” Viktor shoots back. “Caffeine keeps me alive.”

“Tea has caffeine in it!”

Viktor’s favorite days are when they have enough time to stop for food. He loves how Yuuri will spend fifteen minutes carefully considering the menu before just ordering pancakes, like he always does. He always drowns them in syrup. Viktor would normally think that it’s disgusting, but Yuuri is much friendlier when he’s hyped up on too much sugar.

It turns out spending hours stuck in LA traffic does wonders for your personal relationships.

“I love this song!” Viktor announces. He laughs, turning the radio up.

“Viktor, you– Watch the road, oh my god,” Yuuri groans. “I’m going to die because you decided karaoke was more important than road safety.”

“I can’t hear you over how good my singing is! _‘You’re driving me wild, wild, wild’_ Yuuri, live a little! It’s a good song.”

Yuuri laughs. “How can you be a world famous popstar and still sing so off key?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was singing for such a demanding audience. Let me sing badly, for once!”

“Okay, okay, go ahead,” Yuuri giggles. He hesitates for a second before he joins in, voice lilting pleasantly.

Viktor tries not to fall too hard, too quickly, but it’s difficult when Yuuri is sitting in the passenger seat, humming along to the radio and smiling so sweetly.

 

* * *

 

Viktor absolutely lives for practice.

Yuuri is the most comfortable when it’s just the two of them in the studio, working through different arm movements and emotions, trying to sync up Yuuri’s gorgeous choreography with VIktor’s music. Since they’ve started carpooling, they’ve become a lot closer, more comfortable with each other. They arrive and leave at the same time, effectively spending the entire day together. It makes Viktor’s heart leap.

The newfound closeness also means that Viktor doesn’t have to hold back with his tendencies for overdramatics.

“Yuuri,” he says panting. “If you make me dance anymore I might actually kneel over and die.”

“Please,” Yuuri snorts. “You’re not that old.”

“I am!” Viktor protests. “I’m a senior citizen! You should respect your elders.”

“You’re only four years older than me.”

“Yes, but the difference between us is that one of us is a professional dancer and the other one spends all day indoors, huddled in front of a piano. Which of us do you think can dance for long periods of time with no breaks?”

“Fine, five minutes.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor whines, sinking down onto the floor. “Take pity on me!”

Yuuri smiles down at the popstar currently slumped in a puddle at his feet. “You’re wasting your five minutes by complaining.”

“You know, you can’t dance if you can’t use your legs,” Viktor says, eyeing Yuuri critically. In a second, he’s launched himself across the room to cling to Yuuri’s legs.

“Viktor! Get off!” Yuuri laughs, trying to shake free.

“Nope! We’re taking a break! Sit down with me.”

After the residual giggles die down Yuuri looks at Viktor appraisingly.

“What?” Viktor asks, feeling impossibly light under Yuuri’s gaze.

“You are not what I was expecting,” Yuuri admits with a fond smile.

“Oh?” Viktor raises his eyebrows. “What were you expecting?”

“Someone more polished,” he responds, honestly. “Less dramatic. You’re more human.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“No,” Yuuri shakes his head vehemently. “Never. I like knowing Just Viktor, not _The_ Viktor Nikiforov.”

Something in Viktor’s chest loosens, a worry he wasn’t entirely aware of until Yuuri dispelled it. “I’m glad. Most people don’t bother seeing past the facade.”

“Their loss,” Yuuri shrugs. “C’mon. We should get back to work, I want to show you this bit I had in mind for the chorus of the third track.”

 

* * *

 

After rehearsal ends one day they head back to Viktor’s apartment for dinner. Once they get there, Yuuri immediately abandons Viktor for Makkachin.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says seriously. “I want you to know that I’m only working with you because I love your dog.”

Viktor’s face splits into a grin. “I’m glad you two are getting along.”

“You’re coming home with me,” Yuuri says, and for a moment Viktor thinks he’s talking to him before he realizes that Yuuri is actually speaking to Makkachin. “We’re leaving Viktor. There’s a nice park near my apartment, you’ll love it there.”

Makkachin _boofs_ softly in agreement. Viktor tries to feel betrayed but the scene is too adorable.

“Makka,” Viktor fake whines. “How could you? Running off with Yuuri, I know he’s handsome but I thought we had something?”

Yuuri blushes. “Your bond has been broken. He’s mine now.”

“Will I at least be able to visit?”

“No,” Yuuri mumbles, burying his face in Makkachin’s fur. “But I can be convinced.”

“Oh?”

“If you can make it through one practice session without complaining, then _maybe_ I’ll let you visit.”

“Yuuri, so cruel!”

Yuuri giggles. Makkachin wags his tail. Viktor is hopelessly charmed.

 

* * *

 

This is, quite possibly, the worst party that Viktor’s ever been to. He wishes that someone would do something dramatic, like rip off their leggings and pole dance for him.

It’s unlikely that would happen again, considering the fact that Yuuri is a) not wearing leggings and b) not smashed on too many flutes of champagne, but hey, Viktor can dream, right?

Yuuri is currently across the room, chatting amicably with Yurio and a couple other dancers. Theoretically, Viktor should be socializing, celebrating the beginning of shooting. In reality, he’s watching Yuuri from across the room and pretending to have a conversation with someone that Viktor thinks is the production manager. He hadn’t really bothered to ask yet.

He excuses himself to go get another drink. He’s turning away from the drink table when he just happens to bump into Yuuri. Viktor manages to save both of their drinks.

“Whoops, sorry, Yuuri. I didn’t see you there.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri smiles. “I was just coming over to talk to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Yuuri continues to smile at him, not saying anything.

“About…?”

“Oh!” Yuuri startles, blushing. “Um, just wanted to say hi.”

They continue looking at each other.

“Well, I should probably–”

“Dance with me?” Viktor murmurs. He wants Yuuri to say yes, desperate for the opportunity to hold him close, to stay in his orbit for just a minute longer.

Yuuri laughs softly, like the beginnings of a melody.

“Aren’t I always dancing for you? You can’t give me one night off?” he teases gently, taking Viktor’s offered hand. Viktor doesn’t bother trying to respond, still breathless from the sound of Yuuri’s laugh.

Yuuri leads them into a slow dance, more swaying than anything. It’s simple yet graceful: Yuuri slowing down to match Viktor’s speed, always meeting him halfway. Whatever song they're  dancing to fades into the background; Viktor can’t bother to pay attention to it when he has Yuuri Katsuki in his arms, his arms twined gently around his neck.

They stay like this, sweeping across the empty floor slow and sweet. Yuuri is smiling up at him, the moment absolutely perfect and Viktor–

–he’s never felt more _alive._

(Viktor sometimes feels like he’s living underwater. He doesn’t want to call it depression, still in denial, but there’s no other word for it. He never feels truly present, more an observer in his own life than anything. It took him a while to realize that it’s not normal to live like this. Most people don’t feel bogged down with the weight of living like this. It’s a constant struggle: sometimes he feels invincible, a prince with a universe full of stars at his fingertips, and sometimes he feels like he’s alone in the empty vacuum of space.

He’s been getting better, learning how to drag himself up from the pits of despair taking residence in his own brain. Yakov and Yurio help. He knows that if even if he doesn’t have himself, he always has them.

And now he has Yuuri, too.)

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, pulling Viktor from the rabbit hole he’s fallen down.

“Hmm?”

“This is nice,” Yuuri mumbles, blushing.

Viktor thinks ‘nice’ is a vast understatement, but he won’t try to argue.

“It is. We should do this more often.”

“What? Slow dance to shitty 80s ballads?” Yuuri gives Viktor a lopsided grin and Viktor wants him so badly it hurts.

“No,” Viktor chuckles quietly. “I mean, spend time together. Outside of work. I like… hanging out with you.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, ducking his head. “Yeah, I like hanging out with you, too.”

“We could get coffee? After shooting wraps tomorrow?”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. It’s a–” Yuuri stops himself. “It’s a… plan.”

Viktor wants to know if Yuuri was about to say ‘date’ and he’s opening his mouth to ask when his phone rings, shattering the moment.

Viktor is tempted to just let it go to voicemail out of spite. He has never hated his chirpy, pop song ringtone until it clashed with the softness of the past few minutes he’s spent twirling lazily in Yuuri’s arms.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

“No,” Viktor says, childishly. Yuuri shoots him a look.

“What if it’s important.”

“Then they’d call Yakov.”

“What if it _is_ Yakov?”

Viktor sighs, but reluctantly lets go of Yuuri to fish his phone out of his pocket. Viktor checks the caller ID and, because the universe apparently hates Viktor, it actually is Yakov. Viktor sighs again and answers it.

He intends to just tell Yakov to leave him alone so he can go back to dancing with Yuuri, but then he gets sucked into some last minute decisions about the music video shoot tomorrow and the talk show gig the night afterwards.

By the time he hangs up, the party is winding down and Yuuri is long gone.


	3. maybe i won't have to admit it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri: *exists*  
> Viktor: is #rekt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i clutched my ap econ midterm so yall can have this chapter to celebrate

The first day of shooting goes phenomenally.

It’s one of the days that they can shoot indoors, thankfully. It’s just Yuuri, a blank backdrop, and the crew. Of course, and Viktor, but he really doesn’t need to be there. He just likes watching Yuuri work.

Yuuri has a notorious reputation in the industry for being a perfectionist. He uses as many takes as they’ll let him, adjusting every detail, every hand placement until it’s just right. It’s something that Viktor admires about him. It’s rare to find that kind of work ethic in any field.

Viktor tells him as much after they wrap. Yuuri blushes. Viktor tries not to flirt too blatantly, but Yuuri looks so gorgeous with his face flushed like that.

“You work so hard, Yuuri! It’s so nice to have such a _dedicated_ guy working with me,” Viktor purs.

“A-Ah, I’m just glad you’re happy with the shoot so far!”

“More than happy. And you can dance for so long, too! You must have _amazing_ stamina.”

“U-Um, I guess?”

“Well,” Viktor hums. “Shootings over. And you did promise me coffee last night.”

“Actually, _you_ promised me coffee,” Yuuri smirks, regaining his confidence.

“Did I? We should get going, then–”

Viktor is cut off by the sound of a nearby door slamming.

“Oh, Yurio! Hi!” Yuuri breaks off from his conversation with Viktor to greet the teen currently approaching them. “Did you just get off practice?”

“Yeah, Lilia’s a crazy bitch, but she let me pick the warm up music today, so,” Yurio shrugs, hefting his bag up his shoulder. “Whatever. It could have been worse.”

“You should be nicer to her. Madame Baranovskaya is one of the greatest dancers in the world,” Yuuri frowns. His phone chimes with an incoming text message.

“Oh, no,” he mutters, checking it. “Well, I have to go. The landlord found Phichit’s hamsters. Again. Okay, well, bye Viktor, can we get coffee tomorrow instead? Yurio, make sure to practice your arabesque, I want it to be perfect.”

“Sure thing, Katsudon,” Yurio says, rolling his eyes. “See you tomorrow.”

As soon as Yuuri is gone Viktor whirls on Yurio.

“See you tomorrow? Katsudon?”

“What–? Oh,” Yurio mumbles, shifting his eyes. “Yeah, Lilia asked Yuuri to help me out with my ballet. She said it’s better to learn from the real thing, rather than watching his performance tape like we usually do.”

Viktor stares. He knew, on some level, that Yurio looked up to Yuuri as a dancer, but he didn’t know the teenager studied his videos.

“It’s nice,” Yurio admits, his voice going uncharacteristically quiet. “He’s really good.”

“Okay, but … Katsudon?”

“Yeah, he’s like crazy obsessed with it,” Yurio chuckles. _Chuckles._ Viktor has never seen Yurio chuckle in his life. “He took me out to get food after practice one time, at this Japanese place nearby. He nearly died when he saw they served katsudon. It’s like this, uh, pork dish. It’s pretty good actually, but he wouldn’t stop talking about how whis mom makes it best.”

“Aww, Yurio,” Viktor fawns. “That’s so cute! You look up to Yuuri! How adorable!”

“Shut up, old man!” Yurio growls, back to his usual prickly self. “Lots of people learn from his dancing, okay? There’s a reason he’s got like a billion YouTube subscribers.”

“Still! You should have told me. I can’t believe you two are friends, I’m so happy! My two favorite people!”

“Whatever,” Yurio snaps, blushing. “It’s just because he’s the only one around here who actually listens to me.”

Viktor smiles. And then frowns.

“Wait, he took you out to get his favorite food and not me? Yurio! I’m so jealous!”

Yurio facepalms.

 

* * *

 

The next day they’re shooting at one of Viktor’s favorite locations: the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. He loves how Yuuri ducks and weaves in between the light posts, the muted pastels of the sunset like a watercolor backdrop behind him.

Viktor’s job is mainly to stand around and look pretty. He doesn’t mind, not when he gets to watch Yuuri twist and bend in the dying light like the work of art he is. The setting is fitting.

It’s a poetic scene. That’s not going to stop Viktor from being his corny self. He strikes while Yuuri is taking a water break.

“Yuuri, you’ve got something on your face.”

“Hm?” Yuuri scrunches up his nose. “Where?”

“I would brush it off for you, but we’re at a museum and I don’t think I’m supposed to touch the art,” Viktor says with a grin.

“What–? Oh,” Yuuri levels him with an unimpressed look. “That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Sweetheart, I’m just getting started.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, but Viktor can see him fighting to keep a smile off his face. He brings his hands up, fingers in an L shape, to frame Yuuri’s face like a movie director.

“I may not be behind the camera, but I can picture you and I together.”

Yuuri snorts, almost inhaling his water. Viktor takes it as a sign of encouragement.

“Are your parents artists? Because you’re a masterpiece.”

“Viktor, _stop,”_ Yuuri giggles. “These are terrible.”

“Are you a painting? Because I’d like to nail you up against a wall. You must be an artist because I’m so drawn to you. Will you Vincent Van Gogh out with me?”

With each line Yuuri’s face gets progressively redder and his smile wider until he’s shaking his head in fond exasperation.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Viktor concedes, a heart-shaped grin on his face. “Is it working?”

“Be serious,” he says, still chuckling softly. “Okay, my breaks over. Try to do something besides just standing around and making bad jokes.”

“But I am serious,” Viktor pouts at Yuuri’s retreating form.

“ _Holy shit,”_ Yurio says, having witnessed the entire exchange. “You’re kidding.”

“What?”

“You’re pathetic.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“How old are you, again? Twelve? I don’t know how everyone thinks you’re some hot playboy if _that’s_ how you flirt.”

“Says the actual twelve year old.”

“I’m fifteen, you fuck,” Yurio hisses. “And Katsudon must be denser than I thought. You might as well have a flashing neon sign reading ‘DATE ME’ on it.”

“He’d probably still think I was kidding.”

Yurio huffs. Viktor grins. Oblivious or not, Viktor wouldn’t have Yuuri any other way.

 

[Image: Long, parallel lines of light posts, lit up against the twilight.]

 

 

The third shoot is at the beach.

Yuuri insists.

“It’s an ocean song,” he says and Viktor agrees. It’s wavy and Yuuri’s choreography matches that. Viktor’s pulled in, like the tide.

It’s wonderful. They drive up the coast to northern California, up near the redwood trees and the fog of the Bay Area. Viktor thinks it’s pretty, but Yuuri is entranced. The fog sits heavy on top of the water, the sky cloudy in a way that Viktor didn’t think was possible for California, land of perpetual sunshine. Yuuri looks ethereal here, surrounded by moss and wood and great boulders and coarse sand. He looks like something ancient, an extension of the forest. He greets the ocean like an old friend, waves lapping playfully at his heels.

This ocean is not the same one he’s accustomed to. It’s darker, harsher. The rocks are a sharp, jagged black against the seafoam. Yuuri somehow manages to make it work.

“Viktor!” he calls, waving him over. “The water is great! Dip your feet in!”

“You’re going to ruin your clothes,” he chuckles, jogging over to Yuuri.

“It doesn’t matter, they’re dipping me in later anyway. It’s nice, right!”

By nice he means ice cold.

“It’s freezing, what the hell!”

Yuuri laughs maniacally. The ocean spray soaks his shirt, making the white button up semi-transparent. “You’re so spoiled. Not all beaches are like LA beaches.”

The crew finishes setting up and Yuuri is called away. The majesty of the woods are having an effect on him. This album isn’t out yet, but already he’s itching to write something new. A lilting rhythm for the waves. A strong baseline for the solid lines of tree trunks. Yuuri, in the middle of it, dancing a sweet melody, his ankles buried in the surf.

 

[Image: a shot of the San Francisco Bay, framed with rocks. The Golden Gate Bridge is visible through the fog in the background.]

 

 

There’s a media storm regarding a picture of the two of them on one of their breakfast runs. Viktor thinks it’s cute; it’s a good picture after all. Yuuri freaks out.

“I don’t understand!” Yuuri shrieks. “Why me? We’re just eating and– look! I have a bit of pancake hanging out of my mouth. I’m like a trash can sitting next to you, how can they think we’re dating?”

Viktor frowns, a little offended. “You’re not a trash can. Also, it’s not like this is new.”

“What?”

“Well,” Viktor says. “There are _a lot_ of teenagers on the internet who think we’re dating.”

“It’s because of your Instagram posts, isn’t it?” Yuuri mutters, blushing. “You post more than Phichit, Viktor. _More than Phichit._ ”

“I can’t help it! My fans need to know what I’m doing!”

“It’s cute that you care so much about your fans,” Yuuri says, sparing him a small smile. “But what are we going to do about this? Should we issue a statement?”

“Issue a statement? No, it’ll be fine. It’ll blow over in a couple of days. Last week they thought I was dating an intern because they had a picture of her giving me coffee.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Shouldn’t you be use to this though? You’re just as famous as I am, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of rumors,” Viktor says, like he doesn’t already know. Like he didn’t crawl through dozens of gossip rag sites to see if Yuuri was dating anyone.

“I mean probably?” Yuuri shrugs. “I think there were rumors about Phichit and I a couple years back, but I don’t know about anything else. Ciao-Ciao, my manager, has a rule about not googling myself.”

“Not–? Really? You don’t read articles about yourself?”

“Um, no? I always only end up reading the bad comments so Phichit and Ciao-Ciao decided they should ban me from it. It works out pretty well actually. Phichit usually tells me what’s going on anyway, so.”

Viktor frowns. No wonder Yuuri doesn’t know about how much of a pop culture icon he is.

On the other hand, maybe it’s a good thing that he’s unaware of how much self-insert fanfiction there is online about him. Yeah, it’s probably a good thing.

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor’s favorite is definitely the fourth video shoot.

He’s in a glitzy suit, crooning into a 50s style microphone in an old vintage bar. His hair is coiffed perfectly, makeup impecable.  

His favorite part is the transition at the end. He steps off the stage and right into the ocean from the third shoot. Yuuri whisks him into a slow waltz, before he twirls and is back in the vintage bar, suit soaked with seawater. It’s a metaphor, for Yuuri sweeping into his life and then disappearing just as quickly. When Viktor first wrote it, the song was bittersweet. Now, it holds a promise, Yuuri’s lingering hands and knowing smile feel less like a _goodbye_ and more like a _see you later_.

Mila teases him for being so artsy and sentimental.

“Once it’s finished you’ll understand,” he says. “They’ll put it all together in editing, you’ll see.”

“Oh, Vitya, hipsters on the internet are going to lose their minds. You’re catering directly to their aesthetic.”

“ _Vitya?_ ” Yuuri repeats, blinking owlishly at Mila. Viktor has a heart attack.

“It’s a nickname,” Mila says smirking. Her eyes flicker over to Viktor. “It’s a Russian thing. Nicknames are used for family and friends.”

“Oh, okay. Vitya,” Yuuri says again, testing it out. “Is that okay?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s great,” Viktor squeaks, nodding rapidly. “Please, call me Vitya.”

Yuuri smiles slow and soft.

“Okay, Vitya.”

Viktor is absolutely _wrecked._

__

[Image: a black and white photo of an old, vintage looking microphone with a blurry background.]

 

 

Viktor thinks that maybe Yuuri _knows_. About how Viktor feels. He doesn’t mind though, he’s enjoying the way things are playing out. Slow, saccharine, and impossibly bright. Viktor thinks that the unspoken words between them should feel heavy, but instead it feels like cotton candy. It feels like something intangible, but still undeniably there. Like gravity.

 

* * *

 

“Beautiful,Yuuri!” Viktor calls, all the way across the set. A nearby intern almost drops the coffee she’s carrying.

Yuuri sends a devastating smile at Viktor as he moves to get back into his starting position for another take. They run through the song three more times before Viktor fully recovers.

“He’s so pretty, Yurio,” Viktor sighs, resting his face in his hands. He’s completely aware that he’s acting like a lovesick teenager, but he honestly can’t bring himself to care.

“Ugh.”

“Look! He’s doing the hair thing!”

“You’re pathetic,” Yurio says, watching Viktor swoon. “He’s literally just pushing his hair back, there’s nothing special about–”

“Yurio! Everything about him is special!”

Yurio rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. Viktor knows he’ll never admit it, but Yurio looks up to the older dancer, even if he pretends he hates him.

“Ooh, are we ogling Yuuri while he dances? Why wasn’t I invited?” Mila says suddenly, appearing seemingly from thin air. “Oh, that little hop he did was cute!”

“We aren’t _ogling_ him, we’re observing!” Yurio shouts. “Also, what are you doing here? Don’t you have your own video shoots, hag?”

“Quiet, you’ll distract Yuuri,” Mila says, absently punching Yurio in the arm. “I’m done for the day so I came to watch Viktor watching Yuuri. It’s entertaining.”

She’s proven right when Viktor lets out another squeal as Yuuri leaps gracefully through the air.

The rest of the shoot continues in this fashion: Viktor being is dramatic, enamored self while Mila and Yurio (later joined by Georgi) tease him mercilessly. Yuuri breaks for water and makes a bee-line for their small group, huddled by the refreshments table. Viktor struggles to contain his excitement.

“Wonderful, Yuuri! You’re such a beautiful dancer, I’m so impressed!” Viktor gushes. Yuuri blushes, his performance persona dropping immediately.

“You’re impressed by him just _breathing_ ,” Yurio grumbles, too quiet for anyone but Mila to catch.

“It was okay, then?”

“It was wonderful,” Mila cuts in, before Viktor can launch into a ten minute presentation, complete with powerpoint slides about how Yuuri Katsuki is perfect in every way.

“Thank you,” Yuuri mumbles, taking a swig of water. The director calls him back, and Yuuri turns to go, taking Viktor’s heart with him.

 

[Image: a dimly lit set, people are grouped together and observing the filming.]

 

 

After work, they go back to Viktor’s apartment.

Phichit apparently needs his and Yuuri’s place for “meditation” or something like that. Yuuri tells Viktor that “meditation” code for “Phichit brought a cute boy over and Yuuri probably shouldn’t come home for the next six hours if he doesn’t want to see anything potentially scarring” which Viktor thinks is hilarious.

“I’m so tired,” Yuuri whines, flopping down onto Viktor’s couch. “Why can’t he do this on a weekend? Or literally any other day?”

“Well, at least you get to hang out with Makkachin, right?”

“Where is Makka?” Yuuri asks, lifting his head. “Makka! Come here!”

Makkachin bounds out of Viktor’s bedroom and right into Yuuri’s arms. They greet each other enthusiastically, Makkachin burying Yuuri underneath all of his fluffy glory. Yuuri is delighted.

“I missed you, too! Vitya is so evil for keeping us apart, isn’t he Makka?”

“Hey!”

“Shh, don’t look at him. He doesn’t exist anymore. I’m your new dad.”

“We can share him! You can be his other dad, he’s _my_ dog,” Viktor pretends to grumble. He launches himself over the back of the couch and lands practically in Yuuri’s lap.

“Oof!”

“I’m tired, too! I also want dog snuggles!”

“Vitya, you get to see him all the time,” Yuuri says, shoving him away playfully.

“Makka! Makka, don’t listen to Yuuri. You love me more, right?”

They somehow maneuver themselves into a position that’s more comfortable. Viktor has his arm curled around Yuuri’s shoulder, their thighs pressed together and Makkachin draped across their laps. They argue more about Makkachin and then they switch over to arguing about what movie to watch to kill time. By the time they’ve settled it, Viktor is hungry and Makkachin is asleep.

“Uh oh,” he says, peering down at the poodle. “We have a problem.”

“What?”

“I’m hungry, but I can’t move because Makkachin is sleeping,” Viktor pouts. “I guess, I can call for delivery.”

“How will you open the door when they get here?”

“You can open the door for me.”

“But then I’ll be the one to wake Makka up,” Yuuri frowns. “I can’t do that, he’s so cute when he’s sleeping.”

Viktor looks at him. Yuuri looks back.

“I guess we’re stuck like this then.”

Viktor smiles. He can’t think of a better place to be, next to Yuuri Katsuki, both of them trapped under his dog.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s late.

They just wrapped, the last day of shooting before the editing department works their magic. Viktor is so proud, of the crew, the label, Yuuri. He can’t wait for the rest of the world to see it. It’ll be his best work yet, he can feel it.

“Are you hungry? I feel like you deserve something after all that work,” Viktor offers. “There’s a pretty good diner just down the street, my treat.”

“Okay,” Yuuri smiles sunnily up at him, even through the exhaustion. They walk there together, Yuuri borrowing Viktor’s jacket to ward off the chilly night air. They split some cheese fries and a milkshake, bantering quietly. When Yuuri starts yawning more often than he’s laughing, Viktor pays for their food and walks him back to the studio, where his car is still in the parking garage.

He drives Yuuri home, glancing every so often at his curled form in the passenger seat. If Viktor lets himself, he can pretend that tonight was a date.

(When he drops Yuuri off at his apartment, he’s still wearing Viktor’s jacket.)

 


	4. entropy multiplies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touring the world with your almost-boyfriend isn't as fun as it might sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there, friends!! Second to last chapter!!

Viktor gets the call from Yakov while he’s lounging around his apartment on a rainy Saturday afternoon. He immediately texts Yuuri.

 

[Image: a text conversation between Viktor and Yuuri. Viktor: they finished editing the album!! I have a copy downloading rn (red heart emoji) (party popper emoji). Yuuri: I’m coming over.]

 

Within half an hour Yuuri is knocking on his apartment door, arms full of snacks. 

They sit down to watch it on Viktor’ couch, Makkachin snuggled up between them. They watch the entire thing straight, no breaks. It’s exactly what Viktor thought it would be, exactly how he pictured it. It’s artsy and bright at times; soft and reverent at others. Viktor worked on the songs for months, but they seem new, paired with Yuuri’s dancing. It’s like Viktor worked on half of a painting, not realizing that Yuuri was making the other half. 

“Wow,” Viktor says after it finishes. “We look good together.”

Yuuri beams. It’s like looking into the sun. “It’s amazing. When does it drop?”

“Soon.”

“And the videos? When are those going up?”

“We want to do one every week after release until December 25th.”

“Your birthday?” Yuuri snorts. “That was your idea wasn’t it? You’re so dramatic.”

“You love me anyways.”

“Unfortunately,” Yuuri says, smiling. 

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor waits almost until the last second to ask. 

Even with filming and practice long done, Viktor and Yuuri are still in the habit of eating breakfast together. It’s a nice start to Viktor’s day, picking up Yuuri in the morning and whisking him away to a trendy cafe. Viktor has the privilege of eating pancakes across the table from him everyday, the early morning light catching on Yuuri’s glasses. 

(He tries very hard not to think of these as dates, but, well. Yuuri is always soft and bubbly in the mornings. Viktor has to stop himself multiple times from reaching across the table to hold his hand.)

He waits until Yuuri is almost finished eating, aware that he’s basically useless until he’s had his cup of morning tea and copious amounts of sugar. 

“So, Yakov called.”

“Hmm? About the album?”

“Yeah, it’s more popular than expected. Already, the pre-orders are through the roof.”

Yuuri beams at him. There’s a bit of powdered sugar on his nose. “Vitya, that’s amazing! I’m so proud.”

“The label wants to milk the hype for all its worth. They want me to do a press tour.”

“A press tour? That’s like...?”

“Like talk show appearances, radio shows. Maybe some live performances at events. They want me on every continent, to boost sales.”

“How long will you be gone for?”

“A month, at least. Probably longer.”

Yuuri is quiet for a moment. 

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be fun. I finally figured out how to use snapchat so, while you’re away you should–”

“Yuuri, I want you to come with me.”

“Come… with you? On the tour? But–”

“The label will pay for everything, you don’t have to worry about that. Yakov already cleared it, all you have to do is say yes. This album is as much yours as it is mine. You deserve to be celebrated, too.”

Yuuri doesn’t say anything. He pushes his pancake around his plate. 

“Please,” Viktor says gently. “I-I don’t want to do this without you.”

Yuuri sets down his fork and eyes Viktor critically. “So, I’d perform with you? Like a live version of the videos?”

Viktor nods. He knows it’s a cheap tactic, but he uses his puppydog eyes. Yuuri caves. 

“Well, it does sound like fun. Travelling the world with an international celebrity is a once in a lifetime opportunity. And it’s not like I have much to do, now that shooting’s done.”

“So, thats a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” Yuuri smiles. “Take me on an adventure.”

 

* * *

 

“Yuuri! Let’s go, we’ll miss our flight!” Viktor calls, probably waking up Phichit and Yuuri’s neighbors. 

“Okay, okay,” Yuuri laughs, pulling open the door. He shoves a backpack into Viktor’s arms. “Carry this for me.”

Yuuri turn back to Phichit. The two seem to have a silent conversation before Phichit is leaping into Yuuri’s arms, clinging to him tightly. 

“I’ll miss you! Don’t forget to buy me souvenirs.”

“I won’t,” Yuuri promises.

“Also, take care of Viktor. He might get lost.”

“Hey,” Viktor cries indignantly. “I’m a responsible adult.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Phichit snarks back. “Last week you were an hour late to lunch with us because you stopped to pet a dog.”

“In my defense, Yuuri would do the same thing.”

“I would,” Yuuri says. He lets go of Phichit and grabs the handle of his suitcase. “Bye, Phichit.”

They make it to their flight on time, and if they stop to pet a few dogs, well. Phichit doesn’t need to know.

They touch down in New York a couple of hours before they’re set to appear on a late night talk show. It’s tight scheduling, but they manage to get there on time. 

“Vitya,” Yuuri says while a crew member applies his makeup. “I’m nervous.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “You’ve performed at bigger events before.”

“Yeah, but no one asked me any questions. I never had to talk, just dance.”

“You’ll be fine. Be honest, but not too honest.”

Yuuri wrinkles his nose. “That’s terrible advice.”

Despite Viktor’s drama and Yuuri’s nerves the interview goes well. The performance is even better. Viktor wishes they had scheduled more joint interviews. He loved showing Yuuri off, a vague sort of possessiveness wrapped around his words like a snake. He loved how Yuuri looked at him when he answered questions, ask if Viktor was the one asking and not the interviewer.

Viktor is sure that anyone watching can see just how much he loves Yuuri. He sings their triumph directly into the camera.

  


[Image: The New York City skyline seen from a hotel window, the hotel bed’s sheets rumpled with someone’s jacket thrown over it.]

 

 

One of Viktor’s model friends decides to throw them a party while they’re in New York. Viktor  _ loves _ parties. He gets ready like a teenager preparing for prom, bouncing around the room and flapping his arms excitedly. Once he’s done, clad in a stylish pastel pink suit, he knocks on Yuuri’s door. 

“Yuuri,” he calls, singsong. “Ready to go?”

Yuuri opens the door. The first thing that Viktor notices is that he looks absolutely  _ delicious. _ The second thing he notices is that Yuuri is upset. 

“Hey,” he says softly, shutting the door behind him. “Let’s go.”

Viktor frowns. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Yuuri.”

“It’s okay,” Yuuri sighs. “I’m just feeling a little…. Bleh.”

“We don’t have to go, we can stay in or–”

“I’m fine. Besides, we can’t skip our own party, can we?”

“We definitely can,” Viktor informs him, “I’ve skipped my own party many times.”

Yuuri offers him a tight smile, his eyes distant. Viktor doesn’t push. 

It seems to get worse as the night progresses. They arrive fashionably late, as Viktor intended, so the party is in full swing when they enter. The club lights pulse overhead, bright flashes of neon cutting through the dark. Viktor recognizes almost everyone he sees, after all the entire club is reserved for them and Viktor’s friend had assured him it would be a strict invite-only party. Yuuri stays pressed close to his side, until suddenly he’s not. 

“I’m just,” he says, pulling away and gesturing over his shoulder. His eyes are wild. “I’m j-just going to go to the bathroom, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Viktor nods and lets him go. He doesn’t realize his mistake until later, when half an hour has passed and Yuuri is still gone. Viktor politely excuses himself, shouting over the music at the small crowd of semi-celebrities that have amassed themselves around him. He sets off to look for Yuuri.

He finds him, eventually, in a dim corridor nowhere near the bathrooms. He’s slumped against the wall, curled up on himself. He doesn’t look up when Viktor approaches. 

“Yuuri? Where have you been, I was so worried. Are you okay?” Viktor crouches down next to him. Yuuri flinches back when Viktor reaches out. 

“Yuuri, look at me? You’re breathing too fast, you need to slow down. What’s wrong?”

Yuuri’s eyes snap up to focus on Viktor. He looks hazy, dazed. He’s gasping like he just ran a marathon. 

“I-I’m having a p-panic at-tack,” he manages to get out.

“Panic attack? I’ve never– What do I do? Should I call an ambulance?” 

Yuuri shakes his head, curling up even tighter. 

“I-I don’t know what to do,” Viktor says, frazzled. “Yuuri, w-what do I do?”

“J-Just don’t leave. Do-Don’t leave me,” Yuuri whispers in between gasps. “Please.”

Yuuri’s breathing gets more and more erratic. Viktor looks around wildly, feeling useless. 

“Okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You need to breathe, Yuuri. C-Can you follow my breathing? Uh, is that something that would help?”

Yuuri nods. There are tears streaming down his face. 

“Like this, alright?” Viktor takes a deep breath. He watches Yuuri try to mimick him, shakily inhaling and then exhaling. They do that until Yuuri’s breathing evens out and his tears stop. Eventually, Viktor shuffles until he’s sitting up against the wall next to him. Yuuri drops his head onto Viktor’s shoulder, exhausted. 

“Sorry you had to see that. Phichit is usually around when I have attacks, he usually talks me through them. I forgot about how… scary they look to other people.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Viktor says firmly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help better. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid you’d stop breathing.”

“I’m sorry.”

Viktor closes his eyes. He breathes, let’s Yuuri pull himself together. 

“Can I ask what started it?”

“It wasn’t anything in particular,” Yuuri says vaguely. “It was more like… a feeling. Like something chewing at my brain until I can’t ignore it. A thought.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I need to be … more,” Yuuri whispers. “For all of this to be worth it. I need to be  _ better.” _

“You don’t,” Viktor says firmly. “You are absolutely perfect the way you are.”

“No, you don’t understand, I–”

“I do understand,” Viktor laughs bitterly. “It’s like this, right? You need to be the best, the best there was so that they can’t hurt you. If you work hard enough, if you’re popular enough, good enough then they can’t tell you that you’re _not_ enough anymore. _I_ _get it._ Why do you think I always push myself to surprise people?

“Entertainment is a cannibalistic industry, Yuuri. You and I know this better than anyone. You kill yourself to remain relevant, rise from the ashes and hope they don’t forget you. You need to be the coolest, the trendiest, the most  _ desired.  _ I know, okay? I know.”

They sit quietly for a minute. Viktor reaches out to take Yuuri’s hand.

“You understand, then. Why I’m like this,” Yuuri says. “I need to survive, Viktor, same as you.”

“See, that’s what they don’t tell you, “ Viktor catches his eye. “You  _ don’t  _ need them to survive. Just put out the work you can be proud of.”

“I don’t know how to be proud of myself anymore,” Yuuri admits softly and Viktor’s heart wrenches. “I don’t know how to believe anymore.”

“Then I’ll believe enough for the both of us until you figure it out.”

They sit there for a long time with their fingers interlocked, the cacophony of a party raging on just out of reach. 

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Nikiforov, what was the main inspiration behind this album?”

Viktor is  _ so tired _ of being asked this question. It seems like every show he’s on asks the same questions. He wants to skip to the part where he and Yuuri get to perform together.

“Life and love,” he answers cryptically. 

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” he says smugly. It’s amazing that no one’s figured it out. His life and love is sitting backstage in a makeup room, getting ready to perform. 

 

* * *

 

 

The first time they share a hotel room it’s a mistake. 

The concierge explains that there’s been a mix up with reservations, something about timezones and similar names. Viktor isn’t really paying attention. He figures they should put up more of a fight but they’re both too jet lagged to try to fix it. Yuuri takes the key to their new, single bed room and drags Viktor to the elevator.

Viktor almost expects it to be awkward. After all, just a few months ago Yuuri wasn’t comfortable sharing a studio with him, let alone a bed. His fears are quickly resolved when Yuuri tosses his luggage aside, flops face-first onto the bed, and promptly knocks out. Viktor follows his example, flinging himself down next to Yuuri, out as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

In the morning, Viktor realizes how utterly screwed he is. Somehow, in the night they’ve migrated towards the center of the bed. Yuuri’s face is so close to Viktor’s, his breath lightly ruffling Viktor’s hair. Viktor is curled towards Yuuri, as if even in his sleep Viktor’s body was drawn towards him, like a flower seeking the light. They’re not actually touching, despite the closeness, and Viktor thinks that the scant inches between them feels like miles. 

Viktor realizes, with a jolt, that he wants to wake up next to Yuuri for the rest of his life. 

A minute later, Yuuri’s eyes flutter open, drifting over to Viktor, who holds his breath, waiting for Yuuri to launch himself from the bed. Instead, Yuuri smiles at him sleepily, rolling over to stretch. 

“Mm, good morning.”

“Good morning,” Viktor says cautiously, still expecting Yuuri to freak out. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock,” Yuuri informs him cheerfully, sitting up fully now. “What time do we have to be at the radio station?”

“Noon.”

Yuuri flops back down. “Good, then we don’t have to get up yet.”

They don’t talk about it. Yuuri seems content to go along as if this is a regular thing they do, sharing a small living space, a bed. As if waking up next to each other is a regular occurrence and not the earth-shattering, heart-stopping event it was for Viktor.

From then on there’s a silent agreement to always share a room. Viktor doesn’t know what it means, but he’s not going to question it, not when he gets to look at their toothbrushes resting next to each other over the sink, not when he gets to pretend that this means that they mean more to each other than two collaborating artists.

 

[Image: an empty train platform with a vending machine at the end.]

 

 

“What are you doing?”

Viktor wanders into the kitchenette of their Tokyo hotel room to see Yuuri huddled over his laptop at the table, the blue glow illuminating his face. 

“Reading an article.” 

Viktor pads over to him and leans in close, one hand on the back of Yuuri’s chair and the other resting on the tabletop.

“An article? What about the No Googling Yourself rule?” Viktor hums, pretending to be interested, but mostly focused on how Yuuri leans back into his touch. “About?”

“I didn’t google myself, Phichit sent me this. It’s about us.”

Viktor peers down at the screen. The words “Power couple Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov take the music scene by storm!” jump out at him. Underneath the headline is a picture of one of their talk show appearances. Viktor is singing in the background, lit in soft pinks, his eyes soft and fond as he watches Yuuri dancing in the foreground. 

“Power couple?”

“Apparently,” Yuuri hums. “I’ve already emailed them to correct the assumption, but I have to admit, it’s a good article. They said some really nice things.”

“And that’s a good picture of us.”

Yuuri tips his head back to look at Viktor upside down.  He hesitates for a second. 

“Vitya,” he says. “When do we need to be in Paris?”

“Not for another week, why?”

“Well, we’re in Japan. And if everything’s finished here and we don’t need to be in Paris yet... Do you want to visit Hasetsu with me?”

“Hasetsu,” Viktor says, stunned. “Like, _ your  _ Hasetsu? With your family?”

“I haven’t been back in a while. Also, I want you to meet them.”

Viktor blinks. A smile breaks across his face. 

“I’d love to.”

The next morning they’re on a train. Yuuri’s plastered to the window the entire time, taking in the ocean or the countryside or the cities they pass through. 

“It’s a shame. We should come back in March. Everything’s so beautiful when the cherry blossoms bloom.”

Seven hours and multiple transfers later and they’re in Hasetsu. 

Viktor thinks it makes sense how Yuuri is so beautiful. He comes from a beautiful place. It’s built right up to the edge of the ocean, as if it had been bigger until the sea rose to reclaim it. It’s quiet in the way that a city never is, even at night. Hasetsu feels like it’s own bubble, a small pocket away from the rest of the world. Viktor falls in love instantly.

“Yuuri! What’s that?”

“It’s the Hasetsu Castle. It use to be a ninja house.”

“Wow, ninjas! Oh, Yuuri, look! Street food, let’s try some.”

“You just ate, Vitya,” Yuuri chuckles fondly, pulling Viktor along. “Come on, my mom’s expecting us.”

On the walk to Yuuri’s home they pass by a short, plain building with windows facing the ocean. Yuuri stops for a moment. 

“That’s Minako-sensei’s studio,” he says softly. “I spent more time here than I did at home.”

“Do you want to stop and say hello?”

“No, she’s probably already home waiting for us and drinking with my dad and Mari,” Yuuri chuckles fondly. “Ah, I can’t wait to see her.”

As it turns out, Minako is just as excited to see Yuuri. 

“Yuuri Katsuki!”

As soon as they step through the doors of Yu-topia, a small brunette woman launches herself at Yuuri. He goes down in a tangled pile of dancer limbs. 

“Minako-sensei!” Yuuri laughs. “Get off, you’re crushing me.”

“You’ve been gone for too long,” she glares, climbing to her feet gracefully. 

“Less than a year. Where’s everyone else?”

“Waiting for you,” Minako says before turning to Viktor. She’s looking at him like he’s fresh meat and she’s a shark. Viktor gulps. “And who’s this?” 

“This is Viktor! We’re working together on his new album.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you–?”

“Mr. Nikiforov,” Minako grins. Viktor’s a little scared. “What are your intentions towards my Yuuri?”

“M-Minako-sensei!” Yuuri shouts, his face flushed bright red. “It’s not like that!”

“Yuuri?” 

They’re interrupted by a small, stout woman who looks alot like Yuuri. 

“ _ Okaasan _ ,” Yuuri smiles. “I’m home.”

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Viktor meets everyone in Yuuri’s family and then some. Viktor is unsurprised to discover that Yuuri was well loved, growing up in this small seaside town. Who wouldn’t love him, with his round blushing cheeks and his soft voice? After the initial hostility, Minako and Viktor end up clicking immediately. Yuuri tells him that he’ll get to meet the Nishigoris the next day, since the triplets had to be put to bed early and couldn’t make it.

Hiroko pulls out a seemingly never ending line of different foods for Viktor to try. He’s effortlessly charmed. 

Once things start winding down, Viktor finds himself confronted with the only member of the Katsuki family that hasn’t taken to him yet: Mari.

She catches his eye while Yuuri is regaling his parents with stories from their stay in New York. She nods her head towards the open door, slipping from the room quietly. Viktor follows.

He watches wearily as she lights a cigarette.

“So,” she says. “You and Yuuri, huh?”

Viktor sighs. “No, actually.”

“Sure,” Mari snorts. “Maybe not yet, but soon right? I know he’s kind of oblivious, but you’re not exactly subtle, are you?”

“I’m not.”

Mari laughs. “Don’t worry, he’ll come around eventually. He’s just a little slow on the uptake.”

“Wait,” Viktor says, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “Are you… encouraging me?”

“Duh.”

“You’re not telling me to stay away from him? Threatening me with bodily harm?”

“I figured you’ve probably gotten enough shovel talks. Plus, you make him happy. Don’t get discouraged, okay. He just requires a lot of time and patience.”

“A lot of patience,” Viktor nods, smiling. Mari eyes him critically. 

“Viktor,” she says softly. “Everyone’s told you not to hurt him, but no one’s told him not to hurt you, have they?”

“Um, no?” Viktor says, surprised. “Why would they?”

“Yuuri’s a good kid, but he tends to break hearts without even realizing it. You don’t look like you deal with heartbreak well.”

“How do you know?”

“Call it a big sister’s intuition,” she shrugs. “Be careful with him, but remind him to be careful with you, too.”

They stand next to each other quietly for a couple minutes. The night has drawn up a blanket of silence over Hasetsu, the ceiling of stars twinkling overhead. Mari finishes her cigarette. 

“Thank you,” Viktor whispers, before she goes. “I’ve never… had a big sister. Or anyone older, really, who looked out for me. I see why Yuuri loves you so much.”

Mari smiles at him, the warmth light of the kitchen spilling out behind the open door behind her. “Take care of yourself, kid.”

Viktor stands outside for a while longer, taking in the place that Yuuri grew up in. He listens to the muffled sounds of the Katsukis celebrating their son’s homecoming. Viktor never had this; the tight security of a full family. He’s glad that Yuuri shared it with him. 

He smiles and heads back inside.

 

* * *

 

One day, towards the end of the tour, Viktor realizes that he misses his best friend severely. He checks the time difference between California and his current location, France, and decides that he really doesn’t care about waking Chris up and calls him anyways. 

“Viktor!” Chris greets him, his face grainy through the horrible Skype connection. “It’s been too long.”

“I know, sorry. We’ve been busy, you know how it is.”

They chat for a little while, Chris admitting that Viktor’s call hadn’t woken him up because he just got home from clubbing. Eventually, the conversation turns towards the tour.

“How are things? I saw you on  _ The Tonight Show  _ last week. How’s Yuuri?”

It’s at that moment that Yuuri wanders out of the bathroom, freshly showered and with just a towel slung around his waist. Christophe makes a choked off noise. 

“Vitya, what are you–? Oh, is that Chris? Hey!” Yuuri bounds over to lean against the back of Viktor’s chair, waving cheerfully through the webcam. “How are you?”

Viktor looks at their reflection in the bottom corner of the screen, Yuuri dripping and leaning over him and Viktor’s face flushed light pink. Christophe manages to hold back his giggles. 

“Yuuri, I’m well. I hope you’re enjoying Paris so far.”

“I am! Though, we haven’t left the hotel room much, aside from press related things. I was actually just about to head out to get some dinner,” Yuuri seems to remember that he’s clad in only a tiny, worn hotel towel. 

“Ah, I should probably get to that. I’ll let you two continue, tell Phichit I said hi. Make sure he doesn’t burn down the apartment while I’m gone,” Yuuri says, shuffling back into the bathroom to change before he’s out the door. 

“Bye Chris! Vitya, text me if you want me to pick up anything else!”

Christophe waits a solid ten seconds before he starts hounding Viktor. 

“Viktor! What have you not been telling me?  _ Haven’t left the hotel room much _ ?”

Viktor buries his face in his hands. “It’s not like that, Chris.”

“Really? You’re sharing a room and he just walked out of the bathroom practically naked.”

Despite his embarrassment Viktor smiles. Yuuri is certainly much more comfortable around him than he use to be and it makes Viktor feel very warm and fluffy. 

“That smile,  _ mon ami! _ So, he knows now? About how you feel? You two are together?”

“No,” Viktor says. “I told you it’s not like that, but…” 

“But?”

“We’re getting there,” he admits. “We’ve been sharing a room, but we haven’t talked about anything. I think he knows, though. Nothing’s official.”

Christophe squeals.

“It’s very… domestic,” Viktor confides with a light chuckle. “He snores, too. It’s adorable. I met his family, while we were in Japan.”

“Tell me  _ everything _ .”

They spend the rest of the afternoon catching up. Viktor feels distinctly like a schoolgirl gossipping about her crush with her best friend, but honestly a crushing schoolgirl probably has more of her shit together than Viktor does. When Yuuri comes back they eat in front of the computer, chatting amicably with Chris. 

Viktor allows himself to imagine it: a future where he and Yuuri invite Chris over for dinner, prepared in their shared kitchen in a comfortable house, ankles locked together under the table and matching gold rings on their fingers.

 

* * *

 

The last leg of the tour goes off without a hitch. After the show in London they decide to go out to celebrate. Viktor wakes up with the worst hangover of his life, no memory of the previous night, and an empty bed. He doesn’t think much of it. 

But something has shifted. He isn’t sure what, but Yuuri is distant. Closed off. He’s like he was when they first met, skittish and impersonal. 

Something happened. Viktor doesn’t know what and his head hurts too much for him to worry about it. He resolves to work it out later, when they’re back in California and he doesn’t feel like throwing up.

They touch down in Los Angeles and Yuuri still won’t look Viktor in the eyes. He doesn’t know what to think, what to do. At first he’d assumed that Yuuri was just hungover. But after they’ve been home for a couple of days, Viktor comes to the realization that Yuuri is  _ avoiding _ him.

“Are we still up for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Um, maybe next time Viktor. I have to be at the studio early.”

“Yuuri! Do you want to come over to watch a movie?”

“I’m busy.”

“Hey, you should visit the label’s studio soon. Yurio misses you.”

“I will, some other time.”

“Can we talk? Is something wrong?

“I can’t right now, sorry.”

It all comes to a head when Yuuri is forced to see Viktor to practice for their upcoming performance at the VMAs. 

Viktor’s not going to lie: he’s upset. He’s hurt and confused. He doesn’t know why Yuuri is acting like this, like they’re strangers, like they didn’t just spend almost a month living in each other’s pockets and the months before that becoming close friends. Yuuri doesn’t answer his texts anymore. He dropped Viktor like a sack of rocks and he won’t even tell him why. 

“Let’s run it again, from the top.”

Viktor watches as Yuuri gets into his starting position and waits for Viktor to get into his. Viktor doesn’t move. 

“How about we take a break.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says. He turns away and goes to rummage through his bag for water. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor calls. He’s glad that no one else is in the studio. It’s late and he wants to sort things out with Yuuri as soon as possible. “Can we talk.”

“About?”

“About why you’re avoiding me.”

Yuuri’s back is turned, but Viktor sees it through the mirror when he frowns. 

“I’m not avoiding you.”

Viktor snorts. 

“I’m not,” Yuuri says, glaring at Viktor over his shoulder. “I’ve just been busy.”

“You’re angry with me. I don’t know why.”

“I’m not angry.”

“You are. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Yuuri spits out. “I’m just being stupid.”

Viktor bites his tongue to stop himself from agreeing.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“It’s  _ nothing,” _ Yuuri repeats firmly. “Run through the choreo again. This has to be spotless before the VMAs.”

“Yuuri, will you just– can you just talk to me? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fine, you want to talk about this now? We’ll talk about it,” Yuuri says, visibly raising his guards. Viktor can’t remember the last time Yuuri felt the need to close himself off around him. It stings more than he’d like to admit. 

“Is this about London?” Viktor asks. “You haven’t been the same since we got back.”

“It’s about London.”

Viktor waits. 

“We went out and got drunk. You don’t remember.”

“After the interview? No, I remember. We usually go out after interviews, what’s–”

“You said some things,” Yuuri cuts him off. “You don’t remember. I do.”

Viktor frowns. “What did I say?”

“You said–” Yuuri seems to deflate here, all his bravado from earlier gone. “You said you had…  _ feelings  _ … for me. That you wanted to– I don’t know, date, be in a relationship. And you said that you knew that I felt the same way about you.”

“So, you–? Yuuri, I don’t understand–”

“You were  _ drunk. _ You were making fun of me. You know I’ve loved you since I was a kid and you threw my feelings back in my face.”

“I wasn’t– I’m  _ not _ – making fun of you, Yuuri. I meant it,” Viktor says, cursing his drunk self. “I  _ do  _ want to be with you.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “No, no. You don’t mean that, Viktor. You’re just… confused.”

Viktor has never been confused about his feelings for Yuuri, not once. He’s been playing for keeps from the start. Viktor Nikiforov is so hopelessly into Yuuri Katsuki that he’s willing to throw away his heartbreaker, playboy reputation to jump straight into a fairytale romance with him. He’s just not sure how to get Yuuri to understand that.

“I don’t think you get to decide if I’m confused or not,” Viktor says lowly, his voice sharp with frustration. 

“You don’t want this– me. You had your fun with your flirting and your jokes, but this isn’t a game, Viktor. I’m not one of your casual flings, I’m your friend.”

“You have no idea what I want,” Viktor spits. “So don’t pretend to,  _ friend. _ ” 

Yuuri’s mouth twitches in irritation. Viktor almost wants him to yell, to show anything but this quiet resignation.

“I told you: it’s nothing. You were drunk and caught up in the moment and I took it too seriously and got my feelings hurt. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal, to me. Is it so hard to believe that I want you?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says automatically, and Viktor wants to tear his hair out. 

“What can I do? Yuuri, what can I do to convince you? I’d do anything.”

“Just let it go, Viktor. I told you, it’s nothing,” Yuuri insists. He turns away, but not before Viktor catches the beginnings of tears welling up in his eyes. “I have to go.”

Viktor wants to fight. He wants to sit Yuuri down and force him to review the last few months with him, pointing out all the glaringly obvious signs that Viktor is in love with him. He wants to argue, to talk for hours, to just sit quietly with Yuuri’s ear pressed to his chest so that he can hear how Viktor’s heart beats only for him. 

He doesn’t do any of those things. He lets Yuuri go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry  
> (not really)  
> i have a [tumblr](https://xyloophones.tumblr.com/) !!


	5. baby, i want you to cave me in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop last one!!

The next few practice sessions are awkward, to say the least. They try to act normally, to be professional, but there’s an undercurrent of tension humming in the background. Viktor doesn’t pick Yuuri up in the mornings anymore. 

What makes it worse is that Yuuri keeps trying to fix things, to make things like they use to be, before the press tour. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t taken one look at Viktor’s exposed, beating heart and said “ _ no, thanks” _ before turning away. 

“Viktor,” Yuuri says suddenly on their last day of practice before their VMA performance. “I’m sorry about the other night. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry,” Viktor spits. “I’m  _ hurt. _ ”

Yuuri is quiet while Viktor continues. 

“I told you how I felt and you said you felt the same. The only thing holding us back is you, not me. I love you, you’re just too afraid to accept it.”

“You’re right, I am a coward, but it’s for your own good. I’m holding you back. If we started– it wouldn’t work. We’d crash and burn, Viktor.”

“How do you know if you don’t  _ try _ ?”

They look at each other for a long while.

“Whatever,” Viktor sighs eventually. “You’ve made your decision and I’ll respect that. Let’s run through the choreo again, from the top.”

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor flicks through the pictures on his phone. New York, Barcelona, St. Petersburg, Tokyo, Paris, London,  _ Hasetsu. _ He thinks about Yuuri in the mornings, tangled in the slightly scratchy hotel sheets and looking golden and lovely. He thinks about airport terminals, about buying tea instead of coffee because Yuuri prefers it. He thinks about Yuuri in his nicely pressed midnight blue suit with his leg bouncing up and down anxiously before they step out in front of the cameras. He thinks about Yuuri. 

It’s funny. He feels like he’s lost something, but you can’t lose something that you never had in the first place. 

“He’ll come around,” Chris says to him softly over the phone. “Yuuri just needs some time.”

“I don’t think so, Chris,” Viktor says bitterly. “He seemed pretty determined to drop me as soon as the contract is up.”

“Well, you have time, don’t you. You’re last scheduled performance together is at the VMAs, is it not? You have until then to convince him that the two of you are perfect for each other.”

“I don’t want to have to  _ convince  _ him. I want him to see it on his own.”

“Viktor,” Chris says, pity in his voice. “He will see it.”

Viktor sighs. “Why do I feel like I’ve been broken up with? We weren’t even dating to begin with.”

“Just, focus on your music to take your mind off of things. It’ll work out eventually.”

“I can’t! It’s like The Salt album, but worse. Nothing sounds good. I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“Okay, Viktor, really. Did you call me because you wanted advice or because you wanted to whine?”

“... I wanted to whine,” Viktor admits. 

“Look, just–” Chris sighs. “Let’s talk about something else. What are you wearing to the award show?”

Viktor lets Chris pull him into a mundane conversation. He’s glad for the distraction, but every so often his mind wanders to Yuuri.

 

* * *

 

Viktor read an article, once, about the brain chemistry behind emotions. He thought it was fascinating, how your love can be boiled down to carbon rings and hydrogen bonds. How the spark of attraction can be accounted for through chemical bonds. Thinkin about it like that is so different from what he does. He tries to weave feelings into something easily consumable, dresses up even the ugliest moments with pretty words for people to listen to on their way home from work. He thinks about that article, now. He still remembers the names for the chemicals: norepinephrine, dopamine, the rest.

He wonders what the chemical name for heartbreak is.

 

* * *

 

“Katsudon is a loser!” Yurio announces, letting himself into Viktor’s apartment. “He’s not as cool as I thought he was!”

“What–? Yurio? What are you doing here,” Viktor raises his head from where he’d been slumped over on the couch. “I gave you that key for emergencies.”

“This is an emergency, you’re being emo as fuck and I’m here to fix that,” Yurio says. He places a plastic bag on Viktor’s kitchen counter. “I have ice cream, movies, and nail polish. What do you want to do first?”

Viktor stares. 

“The store was out of mint ice cream so I got you chocolate instead. Also, I’m crashing here for the night.”

“Yurio, thank you, but,” Viktor gulps, looking over the array of supplies that Yurio bought. “This really a problem that we can fix with nail polish and bad rom coms.”

“I know,” Yurio says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “But it’ll make you feel better, right?”

Viktor nods. 

“Good!” Yurio pulls out his phone. “Now stop being such a sad piece of shit and go take a shower. I’m ordering pizza and you’re paying.”

For the first time since his fight with Yuuri, Viktor smiles and it doesn’t feel fake.

 

* * *

 

Viktor gets a text from Mari. 

[Image: a text to Viktor from an unknown number, Mari. It reads “If you need someone, I’m here.”]

 

Even with the foreign number, he somehow knows for sure that it’s her. He wants to ask how she has his number or how she even knows how he’s feeling but Mari is a superhero and the Katsuki siblings are very close. There’s no doubt in Viktor’s mind that Yuuri has probably told Mari everything. He contemplates just ignoring the message but then he starts to feel a little guilty. Mari has been nothing but nice to him in a weird, gruff way that only she can be. There’s only a three year difference between the two but Viktor kind of feels like a teenager asking his cool older sister for help. Also, between Chris’s hourly ‘ _ are you okay? _ ’ texts and Phichit’s cryptic, singular ‘ _ FIX IT’ _ text, Viktor’s not exactly drowning in people to seek real advice from. He bypasses texting and dials her number instead, international call rates be damned. 

“Viktor,” she greets. “Hold on just a sec.”

Viktor waits patiently while Mari says something in Japanese to someone else, voice distant and tinny while she probably holds the phone away from her mouth. Viktor plays with Makkachin’s floppy ears and thinks about what to say. Eventually, there’s the sound of a door shutting and a lighter being lit before Mari hums back into the phone. 

“Okay, go ahead.”

“Are you smoking? Yuuri said you were trying to stop,” Viktor frowns. “It’s bad for you.”

“I know,” Mari sighs. “But I’m stressed. And that’s not why you called.”

“You said to call if I needed someone.”

“I did,” she hums. 

“I need someone,” he says quietly. He’s… not use to needing anyone but himself and sometimes Yakov. Viktor’s hands tighten in Makkachin’s fur, feeling nervous and little childish.

“I know. Yuuri told me what happened. Or well,” she amends. “He told me what he  _ thinks _ happened. Which, considering it’s Yuuri, is probably not what actually happened.”

“What does he think happened?”

“He said that he’s ruined things with you by tricking you into falling in love with him and also that he wants to move back to Japan.”

“He  _ what? _ ”

“He says that at least once a month,” she says dismissively. “He doesn’t mean it.”

“O-Okay,” Viktor mutters, frowning. “But he thinks he…  _ tricked _ … me into falling in love with him? I don’t understand. I thought we were doing well? I thought I was taking it slow enough, I don’t know why he thinks–”

“Listen,” Mari interrupts. “It’s always like this with Yuuri. He’s a good kid.  He’s the best thing to ever come out of our dead end town.”

Viktor waits while Mari inhales deeply. 

“He’s a good kid,” she says again firmly. “But he has issues. His mind plays tricks on him. He’s been dealing with it for a while. I’m not saying you’re not allowed to be hurt but understand that he just genuinely doesn’t think that you love him. He has this idea that he needs to  _ earn  _ people’s love. Like he doesn’t get it for just existing.”

It sounds like an old, painful topic. Viktor wonders how long Mari’s been struggling to convince Yuuri that he’s loved. 

“But you didn’t call me to talk about Yuuri’s issues. How are you, Viktor?”

Viktor thinks. He takes stock instead of responding with the usual overdramatic, heartbroken wailing. 

“I’m … mostly confused. He said he felt the same way and everyone was so sure we were going to be together and I… I don’t know what I thought.”

“Don’t give up on him.”

“I’d never,” Viktor laughs. “That’s kind of the problem.”

Mari is quiet for a moment. Viktor wants nothing more than to be transported back to their night in Hasetsu. He wants the open night sky and the warmth of the Katuski household at his back. He wants to visit again with Yuuri. He wants Yuuri to understand. 

“You’re a good kid, too, Viktor Nikiforov,” Mari says softly. “Don’t let my brother let you slip away.”

They talk quietly for a little while longer. Mari updates him on how everyone is doing. She tells him this ridiculous story about a customer who spilled hot tea all over her apron and then tried to hit on her. Viktor actually gets out of bed and puts the phone on speaker so he can play her a song. Viktor thinks that if this is what having an older sibling is like, he’s been missing out.

 

* * *

Viktor wonders if it was worth it, any of it. If coming so close and having it ripped away at the last minute was worth it. He’ll never be able to forget just how warm, how safe he felt with Yuuri pressed up close against his side, sleep soft and lovely. He’ll never forget the way Yuuri laughs, like biting into a tangerine. Viktor felt more at home in the sterile hotel rooms with Yuuri by his side than he does now, his apartment empty and devoid of life, save for Makkachin and his piano.

He thinks that he’ll take anything Yuuri is willing to give him. If Yuuri just wants to be friends, he’s okay with that. He’d rather have Yuuri in his life as a friend than have nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

Viktor comes home the day before the VMA performance to find Yuuri slumped beside his apartment door.

“Viktor!” he squeaks, scrambling to get up. “I– I’m sorry I didn’t call. Your neighbor buzzed me up. I wanted to talk.”

Viktor takes in his appearance. He notes the bags under Yuuri’s eyes, his messy hair. He looks as bad as Viktor feels. 

“Come in,” he sighs, opening the door. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights, just sets down his bag and sits down in front of his piano, putting as much space in between him and Yuuri as possible. It’s a strange parallel to that day months ago, when he’d played tune after tune for Yuuri. Yuuri steps into the apartment, shutting the door behind him and plunging them into near dark. Behind Viktor, the city lights of LA twinkle softly. 

They’re silent for a moment. Viktor begins to play, something quiet and shapeless, the only sound in the room. 

“I came to apologize,” Yuuri says finally. He creeps closer hesitantly. “I want to fix things, before our performance. Viktor, I  _ hate _ fighting with you.”

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re not fighting.”

“R-Right,” Yuuri stops just beside the piano bench, looking down at Viktor. “Then I came to tell you that you’re right.”

Yuuri sits next to him, their sides pressed together.

“You were right, I was holding us back. I was afraid of taking a risk. I didn’t– I still don’t know what you see in me, but I shouldn’t have doubted you just because I was doubting myself.”

“You shouldn’t doubt yourself, Yuuri,” Viktor whispers, shifting a little closer. “I think you’re amazing.”

“You really like me?” Yuuri asks.

“I do.”

“And… you’re serious about this?”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Viktor admits, the darkness making him bolder. “I want you.”

Viktor feels more than he hears Yuuri’s breath hitch. Viktor continues mindlessly playing, a soft melody as the soundtrack for his confession.

“You make me more present. Less of a spectator. You understand me in ways I don’t even understand myself. I–”

His hands are steady even as his voice wavers. 

“I don’t know what happened, but I want us to go back to how we were. These past few months have been the best of my life. If you don’t want romance, that’s fine, too. I just want you back in my life. I miss you.”

“Viktor…  _ Vitya, _ ” Yuuri whispers, placing a hand gently over Viktor’s. “Stop playing for a second.”

The room feels bigger without the piano. Viktor feels smaller, his hands trembling now that they’re not dancing over the keys. He’s sure Yuuri notices, if the way he interlocks their fingers is any indication.

“What are you trying to say?” Viktor has no idea how Yuuri can speak so calmly when it feels like Viktor’s heart might beat right out of his chest. He worries that it’s because Yuuri is less invested in this– in  _ them _ – than Viktor is.

“I want… I want you to at least give us a chance,” he says finally. “I want– I want lazy afternoons in my apartment with Makkachin. I want you to call me when you’re upset; I want to be the person you come to when you need a reminder that you’re loved. I want to show you off at red carpet events. I want you to realize that a good chunk of the songs on the album we just worked on were about you. I don’t know how you didn’t notice, but I’m kind of pathetically into you.

“I know I can be a little… over-the-top,” Viktor admits. “But I’d like to think you like me despite it.”

“Vitya, I like you  _ because _ you’re overdramatic. I  _ love _ you because you’re human.”

When Viktor looks up at him, Yuuri’s got stars in his eyes. He searches Viktor’s face, and seems to find whatever it was he’s looking for.

“You’re incredible. You take my breath away. You also make me want to rip my hair out sometimes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I am– You know, I’m also a mess.

“This,” Yuuri waves a hand between them. “This isn’t easy for me. I’ve never wanted to ask someone to stay close to me, before I met you. I’m use to pushing people away, not– Not asking them to stay.”

“Then  _ ask me _ , Yuuri. I’m right here.”

“Vitya,” Yuuri says, softly, hesitantly. Like he’s still afraid that Viktor will say no. “Do you maybe want to be my boyfriend? Or something?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Viktor breathes, before he’s pulling Yuuri forwards into a hug.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you the first time,” Yuuri mumbles into his neck.

“It’s okay, solnyshko. We got here eventually.”

Viktor pulls back. He feels bubbly and bright, like champagne, like sunshine.

“Can I–” Viktor licks his lips nervously. “Can I kiss you?”

Yuuri flushes a lovely dark red but then he’s nodding furiously and reaching for Viktor and–

It’s like– like coming home after being outside on a cold winter’s night. It’s like feeling the heat from the fireplace against your face, someone you love cooking in the kitchen. It’s like listening to your favorite song for the first time. It’s everything and nothing like Viktor imagined their first kiss to be like.

It’s a flutter; it’s a light press of their lips together before Viktor pulls back. He giggles softly and Yuuri reels him back in, sliding closer, his hands warm and his mouth even warmer.

 

* * *

 

Later, tangled up together in Viktor’s bed with Makkachin sleeping peacefully at their feet, Viktor remembers the way he was initially planning on asking Yuuri out, all those months ago.

“Mr. Katsuki,” Viktor says, putting on his most formal and pompous voice. “I have two tickets to Swan Lake. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me?”

Yuuri giggles and bumps their foreheads together. “I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

It seems like no matter how many times they do this, Yuuri’s pre-performance nerves never quit. 

“ _ Vitya _ ,” Yuuri whispers, clinging onto Viktor’s hands tightly. “What if they don’t like it?”

“They’ll love you, and even if they don’t, I will.”

“Even if I mess up?”

“Always,  _ solnyshko _ ,” he says, kissing his temple lightly. “As long as you’ll have me.”

Yuuri starts to leave before he turns back towards Viktor abruptly. 

“Vitya, you’ll watch me, won’t you?”

Viktor’s breath catches in his throat. “Of course,” he says, startled. 

“Good,” Yuuri replies, and then he’s slipping back into his performance mode. The smirk he throws Viktor is deadly. “Don’t take your eyes off of me.”

“I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to,” he says, scarily honest, but Yuuri is already gone. 

Viktor takes a deep breath, adjusts his microphone. He listens to the roar of the crowd and thinks about how just a year ago cheering fans meant nothing to him. He thinks about how he thought that he’d never see Yuuri Katsuki again. He thinks about how now they’re standing on the same stage, sharing the same spotlight. 

Viktor takes a deep breath and  _ lives. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a wild ride, my dudes!! thanks for sticking with me <3
> 
> I can't promise that the next thing i post will be part of this series BUT this isn't the end!! I have some small bits in the works, including a Salt Album fic that i'm pretty excited about. i'm taking a small break from this verse but it will be back!! eventually!! i pinky promise!!
> 
> Again: thanks for everything!! see you next level!!


	6. Epilogue: ILYSB

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> surprise!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on doing this but here's a short n sweet epilogue because i missed writing Yuuri's POV and also I couldn't sleep so I opened up my computer and this fell out.
> 
> Apologies though because this is more poetry than substance but anyway here's 1.5K of yuuri bein introspective. 
> 
> title is from [ILYSB by LANY](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RPvhItA3lIM).

Yuuri lets himself out of Viktor's apartment as quiet as he can.

He’s _not_ sneaking out. He’s not running away or regretting anything. Not this time, no.

He presses a kiss to Viktor’s forehead, chuckling when he clings to Yuuri like the adorable cuddle monster he is. Yuuri would complain about his octopus like tendencies but he enjoys waking up with Viktor wrapped up tight around him. Ever since they got back from the tour Yuuri has missed sharing a bed with him. No matter how many blankets he swaddles himself in he always wakes up cold, hands twitching to reach out for someone who isn’t there. Looking at him now in the deep blue shadows of pre-dawn Yuuri notices how Viktor frowns in his sleep, curling in on himself to make one half of a set of parentheses that Yuuri is supposed to complete. Yuuri resolves to come back soon. He doesn’t want Viktor to wake up alone.

He pops his sneakers on, shuffling his feet a bit so his toes fit comfortably. On his way out the door he gives Makkachin a gentle pat goodbye. He whines quietly.

“Don't worry Makka,” he whispers, pulling on his windbreaker. “I'll be back soon. I just need to think a bit.”

Yuuri uses his phone to find the most direct path from Viktor’s apartment to the nearest beach. The frigid air makes Yuuri horribly homesick for Viktor and his warm bed and his thick blankets and his soft skin.

Yuuri loves the muted colors of the city before everyone wakes up. Everything is a bit desaturated, like a vintage polaroid picture. It’s kinder on Yuuri’s frazzled mind. He finds comfort in the dim streetlights and washed out buildings.

The urban cityscape eventually gives away to the seafront.

(Yuuri thinks that could be a metaphor for something but it’s too early and he can’t be bothered to think too hard about it. He appreciates the aesthetics of the concrete crumbling away to the sugar dustings of sand and the turquoise swirl of water, though.)

The dawn breaks soft over the horizon. Yuuri has always been enamored with the beach, especially when the sunrise sits low on the water. The sun glows a pastel pink, a cheerful yellow, reflected off the water and the sand and the windows of the skyscrapers behind him. Everything is gold, gold, gold.

 

(It makes Yuuri feel impossibly dull in comparison.)

 

Yuuri exhales.

And then he starts to dance.

He must look absolutely _insane_ to anyone watching, this kid in an oversized jacket tumbling and twisting and undulating on the beach at an ungodly hour. Yuuri doesn't care.

Yuuri has always had trouble expressing his emotions into words. He was too insecure, too anxious about saying the wrong thing. Dancing, though. Dancing, the subtle flex of muscles, the curve of his arms when he leaps through the air, _that_ he never gets wrong. He might misplace vocabulary and fumble over syllables but Yuuri will never miss a beat.

So Yuuri pours out his mind onto the sand at six am, a lonely figure silhouetted against the waking sun.

Yuuri thinks about Viktor. He sways his hips to the push-pull rhythm of the tide. He thinks about Viktor's smile and his voice and how he smirks slow and _incredibly_ sweet just before he uses a bad pickup line. Yuuri pulls up memories of Viktor grinning at him from across the table during breakfast. He pops his shoulders and rolls his head to the image of Viktor curled up in their Paris hotel room, watching Yuuri watching him. He thinks that poetry isn't his thing, it's Viktor’s, but the way he can dance to the exact pitch of Viktor's laugh is a form of poetry in itself. Yuuri leaves footprints in the sand and thinks about Viktor’s eyes when the water washes them away.

 

(The thing is:

Yuuri is going to be so _bad_ at this. He’s going to be a bad boyfriend he knows this like he knows that he hurt Viktor before they even started dating. He knows that he’s not good at asking for things or believing people when they say they love him.

But he wants to try. For Viktor.)

 

It's all just _so much._

The media and the pressure and the international playboy reputation that Viktor wears like a king’s cloak. _The album sales_ . Yuuri had worked himself up to an anxious mess on at least three separate occasions, convinced that the album wouldn't sell because anyone with half a brain could see that Yuuri dances for Viktor and Viktor _only_ and Yuuri didn’t want to face the oncoming jealous tidal wave.

And Viktor, well.

Viktor is a _riptide_ of a human being.

He’s so overwhelming, so much of a presence and Yuuri can’t help but be swept up, out to sea, smiling even as he’s pulled farther and farther away from the gentle comfort zone of the shallows. Yuuri doesn’t care to look back towards the shore and maybe that’s a fatal mistake for some.

 

(But not him. Yuuri knows how to swim.)

 

Viktor matches him step for step. He makes up for what Yuuri lacks, holds up Yuuri when all he wants to do is bring himself down. Yuuri had a full blown panic attack in front of him and instead of trying to find a way to fix him Viktor held his hand and asked how _he_ could be better for _Yuuri._

Yuuri abandons the sensual sway of modern dance and slips back into his old ballet training. Something gentler, less frantic.

Viktor makes Yuuri want to be like that.

Less frantic.

So Yuuri _pirouettes_ and _adiagos_ and he even drops in a _grand jeté_ but the sand is absolute shit for the kind of precise footwork that Minako had drilled into him. Yuuri stops eventually and switches into something entirely new, a style that isn’t modern and isn’t classic. It’s entirely Yuuri.

He can hear the music, one of Viktor’s songs of course, the fourth track on the album. The one that Viktor had played for him after one of their very first practice sessions. The one full of slow turns and unbearably earnest lyrics and the most saccharine melody that Yuuri’s ever heard. The one that– as Viktor had confessed last night– was about _him._ Regular old Yuuri Katsuki.

 

(Viktor had played it for him with the living room lights off and the LA lights twinkling behind him and the promise of a future together nestled in between them.

 

He sang his lyrics, the lyrics for Yuuri, directly into Yuuri’s soul. Viktor gave and gave and gave until Yuuri had to kiss him to shut him up because Viktor, with his smooth low voice and his poems in the form of love songs, is so sweet that it makes Yuuri’s heart ache.)

He was willing to wait for Yuuri to get his shit together even though they both know that Yuuri will _never_ have his shit together. Viktor was willing to wait until the Universe imploded in on itself.

Yuuri doesn't deserve him.

Yuuri ends this train of thought kneeling in the sand, his track pants soaked through with seawater and his hair thick with salt and sand. Other people are starting to wake up and take their morning jogs. The peaceful exclusivity of the beach is broken but it's okay. Yuuri sorted out everything he needed to.

So maybe it is selfish to keep Viktor like this. Maybe he doesn't deserve the kind of soul-searing love that Viktor seems to feel for him. Maybe the noble thing to do would be to back off.

Or maybe Yuuri's brain is playing tricks on him again.

It doesn't matter, Yuuri decides. This is as much Viktor's choice as it is his and Viktor had made it very clear that he’ll stay if Yuuri will have him, and isn't that a thought? _If_ Yuuri would have him.

Yuuri checks the time on his way back to Viktor’s apartment. He winces. It’s later than he thought it was. That's what he gets for waltzing with a body of water instead of staying in bed to snuggle with his boyfriend. He rushes to get back, afraid that if Viktor wakes up to a Yuuri-less bed he'll assume the worst.

“Makka,” Yuuri calls softly as he lets himself in. He toes off his shoes and listens to the click of Makkachin’s nails on the floor. “Makka, I’m home.”

Makkachin woofs quietly and nudges him in the direction of the bedroom. What a matchmaker. Yuuri smiles fondly and strips out of his clothes, slipping on a pair of Viktor's sweats instead.

“Mm, Yuuri?”

Yuuri slides into bed behind Viktor, curling along his back while Makkachin burrows himself against Viktor’s chest. A Viktor sandwich.

They make a lovey family.

“Go back to sleep, Vitya,” Yuuri whispers as he presses a light kiss to the back of Viktor's neck. He's only had a boyfriend for about five hours but he's already adjusting surprisingly well to this kind of casual intimacy. It's a testament to just how _good_ they are together.

“Where’d you go?” Viktor slurs sleepily. “Missed you.”

Yuuri blushes. He watches from out the window as Los Angeles wakes up to the same pastel sunrise Yuuri had poured his heart out to this morning.

“I'm here now,” he says. “I'm not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a new tumblr just for writing stuff over [here](https://somethingsnotquitewrite.tumblr.com/).
> 
> (side note: i promised y'all a Salt Album fic and that will happen don't worry! i didn't replace the salt album fic with this it's still on its way so pls be patient w/ me thx <3)

**Author's Note:**

> [finch-art](https://finch-art.tumblr.com/) on tumblr drew some lovely art for this and you can find that [here!](https://finch-art.tumblr.com/post/159373032324/do-i-look-lonely-i-see-the-shadows-on-my-face)


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